


Sex, Love & Rock 'N Roll

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Abuse, F/M, Rockstar AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-14 09:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 52,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4560012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor is an ageing rock star who is being put under pressure by his ruthless manager. Clara is a journalist who just attended his private party to gather material for her article. Yet somehow the evening turns out differently than they had both expected. Rated E for later chapters. Rockstar AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Clara checked her look in the small, dirty bathroom mirror and nodded to herself. She had put on an extra layer of black eyeliner and tousled and teased her hair like she hadn’t done since college. But this was a special occasion, a very special occasion. Tonight she would see the Doctor live in concert, something she had been dreaming about since she had discovered one of his albums in a small record store over 10 years ago. Clara had chosen one of her favourite dresses for the occasion, a red one with a petticoat underneath it that suited her small figure very well. She had completed her outfit with fishnet stockings, her favourite boots and the obligatory leather jacket. She felt absolutely prepared for the best rock concert of her life.  
Butterflies had been going through her stomach ever since her boss had handed her the concert ticket, but Clara needed to remind herself that this night wasn’t only for her own amusement, she was here on a job. Tomorrow she would need to sit down and write an article about this concert and the Doctor’s performance that had to contain words besides “oh my God” and “awesome”. She took one last breath and turned around, almost bumping into two other women that had just stepped through the bathroom door. Clara immediately noticed the difference between her and the other girls whose skirts were smaller than some belts Clara owned. She wanted to shake her head, but decided to not give them any special attention and left the bathroom, heading straight for the concert hall to secure a good spot in the front. 

The hall was still almost empty and Clara didn't find it difficult to walk right up to the barrier that was guarded by security. They didn't even glance at her when she positioned herself at the barrier, but Clara watched them ogle the two women who she had just met in the bathroom a few minutes ago when they came to stand by her side, giggling endlessly.  
It began to fill up quickly when the concert was about to start and people kept nudging and pushing Clara, but she held on tight to the barrier, determined not to let anyone rob her of her perfect spot. Then came the first announcement and the opening act started to play.

Clara had to refrain from yawning. Compared to the Doctor's music this was utter trash, only noise to her ears. She thought about what she was going to write about the band in her article and if they were worth more than a subordinate clause at all. She applauded without real enthusiasm and was surprised to find the bathroom girls actually cheering. But then again, they probably couldn't even tell real music from the sounds of a construction site.

Then the whole room went dark and silence fell over the audience. Clara's heart started to pound in her chest and for the first time she noticed that her ears felt numb. She desperately wanted to hear or see what was happening on stage, but the noise of the opening act and the smoke had ruined that for her. When people started cheering Clara knew that something was up and she saw it moments later when a light beam was switched on, revealing the Doctor on stage.  
He was just standing there, no guitar, no microphone, his head bowed slightly. Just the Doctor's glorious self, wearing a black suit and a white shirt, his RayBans shielding him from the bright lights on stage. He didn't move or speak, but his presence alone made Clara's knees wobble and her heart was beating so fast now she could hardly contain it. She had loved him for his music ever since she had been a teenager, even though she had always found him quite good looking as well. But seeing him actually stand in front of her and taking in his presence was impressive and something else entirely. The Doctor was actually hot.  
While everyone around her was cheering Clara felt like she was glued to her spot, unable to move. She had been dreaming about this moment for over ten years and now she was so stunned she couldn't even raise her hands to clap.  
When he started singing Clara's world stood still, although singing was not the right word for it. The Doctor started _rocking_. She had forgotten about her job assignment the moment he had stepped on stage, not even wondering how she was going to put his performance in words that were suitable for children under 18. Clara only watched him as if in trance, taking in his music, his looks, she moved to his rhythm and started singing along until a not so gentle push shoved her into the barrier.  
People were now fighting to get as close to the Doctor as possible and they were all taller and stronger than her. She didn't even notice that the singing stopped and the Doctor started talking while she was trying to fight back.

“Now, if everyone could please stop pushing this lovely girl here in the front, that would be absolutely thrilling,” the Doctor said.  
Clara looked up to see who he was talking about and to her surprise found his finger pointed at her.  
“Yes, that's right. You, the lovely lady in the red dress. Please, everyone, give her some space.”  
Even though she now had the room to do it, Clara suddenly found it very hard to breathe. He had noticed her. The Doctor had noticed her. _The Doctor!_ And he had pointed her out and called her _lovely lady_. Oh, how she wished she could put that in her article, if only to show it to all the other women who had come here dressed practically in lingerie. 

The concert was over all too soon even though the Doctor played five additional songs and people kept on cheering and applauding. Clara couldn't tell how much time had passed. Somehow she expected that the whole world must have changed while she had been in here, listening to and staring at the Doctor.  
The crowd was starting to vanish and Clara was about to turn around and leave as well when she noticed the security guards chatting with the bathroom girls.  
“The Doctor is hosting a party at his house tonight. Do you want to come?” they asked the girls who still giggled like schoolgirls, “He always invites a few fans. Would be boring otherwise, wouldn't it?”  
Clara turned around a spotted a similar thing happening at the other end of the barrier line, security guards inviting scantily dressed women. She finally turned around and began to make her way to the exit when someone started shouting.  
“Her as well!”  
She couldn't tell what made her turn back around. Maybe it was because the Doctor had pointed her out earlier and she had almost missed it because she would never have guessed that he had meant her, maybe it was the hope of being invited to the Doctor's private party, too.  
“Yes, you. The woman in the red dress,” one of the security guards said.  
“What? Me?” Clara asked, still uncertain, although she didn't see anyone else wearing red.  
“Are you sure?” the other guard asked him as quietly as someone who had just witnessed a rock concert would.  
“Yes,” the man replied to both his partner and Clara, “Do you want to come to the party? Private party at the Doctor's house.”  
Clara was suddenly very suspicious. This could be a trick. But then again. . . she might miss out on a chance of actually meeting the Doctor. And she did remember reading something about how the Doctor always threw parties after his concerts, inviting lucky fans.  
Clara shrugged. “Sure, why not.”  
Immediately she could feel the bathroom girls' disapproving looks on her. The security guard waved at her to follow them and Clara walked back to join them at the barrier.  
“Come on, the party waits for no one. Not even the _lovely lady in red_ ,” the other guard, who had been uncertain about her invitation, said teasingly and Clara could feel his disapproval as well. Compared to the other girls they had approached she looked like a wall flower and suddenly she regretted agreeing to this.  
Clara exhaled sharply. Well, if the party sucked, at least she would gather more material for her article.


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing Clara noticed when she saw the house was the size of it. The Doctor was living in a mansion on the outskirts of London and Clara didn’t even want to know how much it must have cost. The interior proved to be just as luxurious and Clara was struggling to take in all of the impressions she got from his place. The style had an overall, timeless elegance about it and she was surprised. In her head she had always imagined the Doctor would live in a small, ramshackle house that was cosy and yet unorganised, with records and books stacking up everywhere next to the empty pizza box from a week earlier. This house didn’t give off a real rock ‘n roll vibe at all.  
The bathroom girls who had arrived with Clara were giggling again and whispering things in each other’s ears and Clara was sure to have heard a comment about her own outfit between their nervous chatter. And looking around she saw the reason why. Except for a few security guards all the guests were women and all were dressed in the same fashion. Short skirts and high heels with which they all towered over Clara.  
Again she questioned her choice of agreeing to come to the party at all. The Doctor wasn’t even here as far as she could see and between all of these women Clara felt utterly lost. She just wasn’t the type to dress like a high class whore to get the attention of a rock star. She wasn’t even the type for this kind of party. And she most certainly wasn’t the type to just strike up a conversation and make friends with one of these women to feel less lonely. 

Clara turned around, determined to leave at once and write this off as a bad idea when she saw him. The Doctor came staggering down the stairs, leaning on a women that looked exactly like the rest of them and whispering into her ear. He looked tired, or drunk, or both. But he also looked damn good and Clara was suddenly reminded that they were actually in the same room and she could just walk up and talk to him, a thought that had both her heart and her mind racing. She should leave while she still had the chance before she could do something utterly stupid. And suddenly he turned his head and stared right at her.

Her mind told her to leave, but her feet wouldn't budge. The Doctor was staring at her, unmistakably at her and no one else in the room. Did he recognize her from the concert? No, she shouldn't even try to find out, but _leave_. Yet as she was still trying to gather the courage to actually move, the Doctor had let go of the woman and was slowly making his way towards her. Clara found it hard to breathe and her whole body seemed to be tingling with excitement.  
“Has no one offered you a drink?” the Doctor asked quietly, his Scottish accent a little more pronounced than when he was singing. He had stopped right in front of her and his lips curled into a smile. To Clara he was the most beautiful man on earth at this moment.  
“I, . . . erm . . . no,” Clara spluttered and prayed to God she wasn't blushing. She started laughing nervously, hoping she didn't sound like all the other giggling, babbling women, “Wrong outfit. People see right through me.”  
“I think you look lovely,” he replied earnestly, “Let's go to the kitchen and see if they have left us something.”  
Now that he had called her _lovely_ a second time this evening Clara was definitely blushing. Luckily for her the Doctor couldn't see it. He placed his hand on her waist and led her into the bright, roomy and most importantly empty kitchen. His touch seemed to leave a strange, tickling sensation on her skin, even through the layers of clothing.  
“What can I get you? Beer? Water? Juice? Wine? I literally have everything.”  
“Water is fine,” Clara replied. She was feeling dizzy and hot and stupid already, no need to add alcohol to the mixture.  
Clara watched him, mesmerized, as he retrieved two water bottles from the fridge and even unscrewed one before he handed it to her. For a moment she once more thought that he looked absolutely tired but when the Doctor faced her again, he was smiling.  
“Thank you,” she said coyly, trying not to stare at him for too long, but it proved to be rather difficult.  
“What's your name?” the Doctor asked, a curious smirk on his face.  
“Clara,” she replied, “Clara Oswald. And yours?”  
She laughed, again much too nervously. The Doctor's name was a secret and everybody knew that. Not a single journalist had ever been able to figure it out, or maybe they had and the Doctor had paid them off. In fact, there wasn't a lot that was actually known about the Doctor. It seemed as if he hadn't existed before his career had taken off at the age of 21 and from his private life people only knew what he wanted them to know, which was: wild parties, sex, drugs and rock 'n roll. Clara had so far only been interested in his music, not caring much about the story behind the musician, but she had read up on it before coming to the concert, thinking she might need it for her article. But somehow she found it difficult to believe the man she had read about and the one who was standing in front of her, calm, sober, and an absolute gentleman, were actually the same person. 

“I'm sorry. I can't tell you that, Clara,” he said, pronouncing the R in her name in a way that made her shiver. Though he didn't appear to be sorry at all.  
Clara shrugged, smiling. “I just thought I should give it a try.”  
It suddenly occurred to her again that she was at the Doctor's private party, alone with him in his kitchen, talking to him. How could that have even slipped her mind when she was talking to her own musical hero? Shouldn't she say something about how she had always loved his music?  
“So, what brings you to this party?” he asked, slowly shifting closer to her.  
“I was invited,” she replied, “By one of the security guards.”  
“Which one?”  
“I don't know,” Clara said, slightly confused. Why would he need to know that? “His badge said security. Dark hair. A little chubby.”  
“Oh, must be Ralph,” the Doctor said and his smile widened, “Just asking so I can thank him later.”  
Thank him? For inviting her? It seemed as if Clara's heart would never find its way back to its natural rhythm. Why would the Doctor need to thank someone for inviting her? What was he doing? Was he doing what she thought he was doing? No, he couldn't. He couldn't actually be flirting with her.  
“I saw you at the concert,” the Doctor went on talking before Clara had the chance to clear her head, “I know it gets rough in the first row, but I hope you weren't hurt.”  
“I'm fine. Thanks to you,” she smiled at him. She desperately wanted to say something intelligent, something meaningful, but nothing seemed to come to her mind. The Doctor must surely think she was daft.  
But when she looked back at him she found him staring at her, the smile hadn't left his face.  
“Clara Oswald,” he said musingly, as if to figure out whether he liked the sound of her name or not, “Clara.”  
“Yes?” he asked carefully as he took another step in her directly, stopping only inches in front of her. Their hips were almost touching and Clara felt drawn to the heat coming from his body.  
There was no reply. Instead he raised his hand to her head, taking a strand of her hair and twirling it around in his fingers. Clara didn't know what to do, she didn't know what _he_ was doing. Maybe if she had known this situation would have been easier, maybe if it had been any other man than the famous rock star hero she would have grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips to his own. But this was the Doctor. Surely he couldn't. . . 

Her mind went blank when she suddenly felt his other hand on her waist, slowly pressing her own body against his. Clara didn't know what an electric shock felt like, but this must have been pretty close. Her knees were weak and she was thankful that the Doctor was holding her, even though he had caused her dizziness in the first place.  
“What are you doing?” she asked quietly, insecurely.  
“I'm gonna kiss you,” he replied in a low voice, “If that's alright with you.”  
Clara nodded slowly, unable to form any kind of sound. She tried to think about what was happening, why and how, but her thoughts were nothing but a mess.  
The Doctor bent down slowly, cupping her cheek in his hand. His mouth brushed gently against her own at first, hardly there at all. Clara parted her lips and he began to run his tongue along the outline of them. She had expected him to taste like cigarettes and liquor, but instead Clara tasted spearmint. She savoured every second of his kiss that seemed to grow bolder with every moment their lips touched. It was almost as if he had been insecure at first as well.

“Boss, there's a call. . .” the kitchen door suddenly flung open and the Doctor broke the kiss and stepped away from her. When Clara turned around she saw a man standing in the doorway and recognized him as the security guard that hadn't been sure about her invitation to the party.  
“I'm sorry to interrupt,” the guard said, looking awkwardly around the room, “Missy's on the the phone in the study.”  
Clara heard the Doctor sigh.  
“I'll be there in a moment,” the Doctor said wearily to the man in the doorway.  
She watched the guard leave and turned back to the Doctor. They had kissed. _He had kissed her_. Her mind was still racing, trying to process what had just happened.  
“I'm sorry, Clara. I have to take this. It's my manager. You won't leave now, will you?” he asked her as if reading her confusion right from her eyes.  
Clara swallowed. Yes, she had wanted to leave, a part of her did even now for the sole reason that she was struggling to comprehend everything that was happening.  
“No,” she finally replied, “I won't leave.”  
The smile returned to the Doctor's face. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the reviews on the first chapter :D I seem to have hit a nerve with the Rockstar!AU and I'm really glad you all like it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, you having a good time?” someone asked and Clara turned around to see the security guard who had invited her to the party. Ralph, the Doctor had said.  
For a moment Clara thought about telling the truth. The music was alright, but she still hadn't decided whether to stay or leave the party. Now that she was back in the living room it was too crowded for her taste, too loud and entirely filled with the wrong people, who were all drinking and dancing or making out with the few men available. It had been half an hour since the Doctor had left her to speak to his manager on the phone and she hadn't seen him leave his study since and Clara was growing more and more anxious with every passing second.  
He had kissed her. She had come here looking for material for her article and he had just kissed her. Clara couldn't tell Ralph that and yet he had asked whether she was having a good time.  
What would happen when the Doctor came back to the party? Would he even remember her or just move on to the next girl to kiss? After all, she had seen him come downstairs with one of those Barbie dolls. And she would bet a lot of money on it and say whatever had happened upstairs had involved more than just a shy, gently kiss.  
The Doctor was a rock star. He wasn't into shy kisses in the kitchen. His thing was sex, drugs and rock 'n roll and Clara wasn't the type for that. Or was she? She couldn't even tell anymore. Never in her life had she considered this possibility and if the Doctor truly offered, would she have it in her heart to do the right thing and say no? Or would she spread her legs for just one night with a rock star?  
But the Doctor wasn't just any rock star and she wasn't the typical groupie. He was a very, very attractive man and Clara couldn't deny the effect he had on her. Just thinking about the kiss made her crave more.

“Are you okay?”  
Ralph's voice tore her out of her daydream and Clara banned all thoughts about the Doctor from her head for a moment.  
“Yes, yes, I'm fine,” she replied with a smile, “Thank you for inviting me.”  
“Good, I already thought I did you a disservice by bringing you here,” Ralph smiled back at her, a knowing smile, as if he knew what had gone down in the kitchen. Oh God, he knew, didn't he? The other man must have told him.  
“Why did you invite me?” Clara asked carefully, “I don't think I really fit in the picture.”  
Ralph shrugged. “The Doctor pointed you out at the concert. I thought it couldn't hurt.”  
“You know the Doctor?” She couldn't say why exactly she was surprised.  
“I've been working for him for 15 years. I'd like to think that we've become something like friends, if you can call it that when one side pays the other.”  
“Well, he seems. . . nice,” Clara replied, not knowing what else to say about him when she suddenly saw the door to the study open and the Doctor stepped back into the living room. Ralph must have seen it, too, because he immediately began to distance himself from Clara.  
“Just be careful,” he said to her, “He isn't what he seems.”  
“Don't worry, I can take care of myself,” she frowned slightly, a little insulted that he seemed to think of her as a stupid, little girl.  
“That's not what I meant.”  
Before Clara could ask any more questions, Ralph had turned around and vanished between the dancing girls. When she turned back to the Doctor she found him looking in her direction, smiling and making his way across the room when he was stopped by one of the other security guards. Clara watched them both and it seemed as if, whatever it was the other man told the Doctor, he certainly didn't like it. They appeared to be arguing for a while, an argument that the Doctor clearly lost because he didn't look nearly as happy as he had before when he finally turned back around and approached her.  
Clara wanted to curse herself. Watching him from across the room she had felt relatively calm, but as soon as he was close to her again she could feel herself tremble nervously. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just stay calm?  
“I'm so sorry, Clara. There is . . . erm. . . another thing I need to take care of,” he said immediately and slightly out of breath when he had reached her, “Are you alright? You're not too bored, are you?”  
“I'm okay,” Clara replied.  
“Are you sure? You're not leaving, right? I don't want you to leav,” If Clara hadn't known better she would have thought he was nervous.  
“Not leaving,” she shook her head, smiling, “You're the host. You have stuff to do. I get it.”  
“Good,” the Doctor sighed in relief, “I promise, in an hour they'll all be too drunk to notice I'm missing. We'll talk then, right?”  
Clara's heart skipped a beat. He wanted to be alone with her, undisturbed. Oh God, she wasn't even wearing matching underwear.  
“Right,” she breathed and then gathered up her courage again, “Go be important. I'll be waiting.”  
The Doctor chuckled and while turning around he said to her: “Don't forget me, Clara Oswald. And don't leave.” 

Forget him? How could she forget him? It was more likely that within the hour he was going to forget about her. An hour. Clara took a deep breath. She was going to make it through the hour. Somehow.  
Trying to breathe normally, Clara made her way back into the kitchen that unfortunately was now occupied by a few other people who had settled for something like a private party away from everyone else.  
“Hey, what's your name?!” one of the girls called. She was dancing with her friends and seemed a little too tipsy. The Doctor had been right. In an hour they'd all be too drunk to notice that he was missing from his own party.  
“I'm Clara,” she replied.  
“Come on, Clara. Dance with us. Have a drink. Everyone out there is boring!” one of her friends said to her.  
Well, at least they didn't make fun of her clothes and if Clara was honest, she would rather spend the hour dancing with a few strange girls than with her own thoughts and doubts. 

Even though it didn't really work out as planned with more and more people filling up the kitchen, separating Clara from the women she had talked to for a while, she found herself slowly calming down. The music was getting even nicer, although she would have loved to hear a few songs by the Doctor himself. Clara had even started to enjoy herself and she hated herself a bit for prejudging the present women. She had made small talk with some of them, mostly talking about the concert and the music and how nice it was to be invited to a private party at the Doctor's house. But now Clara was again standing in a corner, glancing at the clock and noticing that the hour had passed a while ago. She was tapping her feet to the rhythm of the music, careful not to spill her drink when suddenly she felt someone draw closer from behind and a second later she felt his breath on her skin.  
“So, Clara,” the Doctor whispered.  
Clara froze immediately. All this time thinking she was completely cool and calm about being close to the Doctor had been a lie. She was almost too afraid to turn around. His voice and the fact that he was almost touching her again made her knees weak.  
“Yes?” she breathed, her reply barely audible.  
“Would you like to see my cars?”  
Clara's face turned into a frown. She shot around and glared at him, unable to believe he had just asked her if she wanted to have a look at his collection of _cars_.  
“What?” the question escaped her lips before she could stop herself and she sounded harsher than she had anticipated. 

But to be fair she was pretty mad. He had noticed her at the concert, he had recognized her again and even kissed her. He had seemed so eager to talk to her alone and now he wanted to show her his cars?  
The Doctor smirked and Clara caught him glancing down at her as he moved closer and cornered her between his body and the wall.  
A few seconds later he had her pinned and Clara was struggling to breathe. That knowing smirk was making her weak. She noticed that he was still wearing his black waistcoat from the concert, but the jacket was gone and the top buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned.  
“Clara, I was asking you if you would like to come down into the basement with me. Alone. To have a look at my cars. One of which has a wonderful wide back seat and tinted windows,” the tone of his voice was unmistakable.  
What he was really saying was: _If you follow me down into the basement I am going to fuck you in every single one of my many cars_.  
Clara swallowed hard as he gently laid his hand on her waist. This was too easy for him. She was making it too easy. But, dear God, she found herself wanting him. The sensation of his touch had faded when he had left her alone at the party, but the memories of it were now coming back to her.  
“I am not really interested in cars,” she replied, but looked at him to make sure he knew she was only playing hard to get. And that she really wanted him to get her.  
“That's really a shame,” the Doctor replied sultrily, his fingers playing with the hem of her dress, “I know a lot of fun activities involving cars.”  
“I prefer . . . _riding_ ,” Clara said, truly hoping she hadn't pushed too far. Oh God, she had pushed it too far. She wanted to put her hand over her mouth to shut herself up.  
As it turned out, she hadn't. The Doctor took her words as an invitation and bent down to press his lips against hers with such force that the glass slipped from Clara's hand and fell to the ground, shattering into tiny pieces. She opened her mouth to him and found his teeth clattering against hers clumsily as he pressed her against the wall with the weight of his body. Clara reached for his hair, burying her hand in soft, grey curls. Their first kiss had been gentle, almost shy. But this time was different. This time he knew that she wanted him to kiss her, and she knew that he wanted it, too. When he moaned into her mouth Clara suddenly remembered that they were still at the party, surrounded by people. When she tried to pull away the Doctor only kissed her more fiercely and pressed his hips against hers. Clara felt the distinct heat of a rising erection against her belly. If she hadn't been sure before about how she would react if he offered, Clara was damn sure now. She wanted him.  
Only she wanted it to be a little more private.  
It was the Doctor who finally broke the kiss. He leaned in to whisper into her ear, but before he did he sucked her lobe gently, sending shivers down her spine and causing her legs to tremble again.  
“What do you say,” he breathed, just loud enough for her to hear, “Shall we go somewhere more private?”  
“Mh-mh,” Clara replied, pressing her lips together. They were still tingling from the kiss he had given her when the Doctor took her hand and led her out of the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys again for the awesome comments! :)


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor led her through the living room and down two flight of stairs, his hand never leaving her waist as if to make sure she wasn't going to change her mind and run off, his lean body touching her own all the way down to the garage.  
Whatever image she had had in her mind about a filthy room only used to put the cars when no one was driving them, she had been wrong. Of course, the cars were there, all four of them, including a smaller limousine, but there was also a separate corner that was laid out with carpet and had a small bar and a few basket chairs. The music from the living room could still be heard, but it was no more than far away background noise.

“I always come here when I'm tired of the party upstairs,” the Doctor explained and led her further into the room, “No one has ever bothered to look for me here.”  
“So you like to hide from your own party?” Clara asked, chuckling, “That's not very rock 'n roll, is it?”  
The Doctor looked at her and for a moment said nothing. She got the impression that there was something he would love to say but couldn't. He averted his eyes and resumed walking.  
“Please, Clara, don't ask me questions like that,” he said calmly.  
“Why not?”  
“Because I might tell you the truth,” the Doctor said simply and leaned against the hood of one of his cars, still not looking at her.  
Clara watched him for a moment. They had kissed twice this evening and, judging by the second time, she thought he had brought her down here because he couldn't wait to slam her against a wall and fuck her brains out, but now it seemed as if the passion had gone out of him, leaving him only thoughtful and tired.  
“Doctor, why have you brought me down here?” she asked before she could stop herself.  
He shrugged in reply. “I'm not sure.”  
“Well, you don't want to talk, you're not doing anything else, maybe I should go back upsta-” Clara stopped her sentence when the Doctor reached for her hand and pulled her closer to him. He had caught her off guard, so she landed right between his legs, her chest pressed against his own.  
“Just don't ask questions.”

Clara could feel his breath hot on her lips as he pulled her in for another kiss. She parted her lips and let him inside her mouth, their tongues exploring each other curiously. His hands wandered over her back and finally settled on her ass, pinching it lightly. Clara gave a tiny squeal when he bit down on her lower lip. He pulled away from her to admire her for a moment, looking her straight into her eyes.  
“You are a very beautiful woman, Clara Oswald,” he whispered, one hand moving back up and stroking a few strands of hair out of her face. She was afraid that her cheeks were turning scarlet red again. “I'm torn. I want to keep looking at you, but I also want to kiss you again.”  
“What's keeping you then?” Clara asked, her question underlined with another one of those small, insecure laughs as she pressed her body harder against his crotch.  
The Doctor closed his eyes at the friction she was causing and sighed. Clara's hands wandered over his chest to where his shirt was already partially unbuttoned.  
“Because I want to do more than just kiss you,” he breathed between his teeth and Clara really did believe that he was torn. She somehow thought that he was deliberately fighting the urge to go further and to her it didn't make any sense at all. He did this sort of thing all the time. She had read about it only yesterday.

This time it was Clara who bent back down, but not to kiss him on the lips. Instead she brought her lips to his neck and started to caress his sensitive skin with her mouth, forgetting all the nervousness, the insecurity, the fact that he was a famous rock star. Right now he was only a man and she wanted him. Knowing that he wanted her, too, she only had to tease him until he forgot whatever it was that held him back from giving in to her. 

One of her hands busied itself with unbuttoning the waistcoat and his shirt while he was feeling under her skirt and pushing it up for better access. Once she had freed his chest of any unnecessary clothing she continued to trail kisses down his body and noticed how his skin startled to ripple with goosebumps under her touch. Whenever she dared to look up at him the Doctor had his eyes closed, taking in every one of her caresses. She stopped right before his belt, one hand gently moving across his trousers when she could feel his arousal under her palm. The Doctor winced when she started to massage him through the fabric and pushed his hips further in her direction, the evidence of her work so obvious beneath his clothing. 

Before she had the chance to reach for his belt the Doctor swept her up by her waist and turned them around, leaving her lying flat on the hood of the car. The weight of his body held her down as he kissed her again, like he had done in the kitchen, hungrily and passionately. He had parted her legs, pressing his crotch against her own and Clara could feel the heat rise between her thighs. As if he had known it, the Doctor brought his hand between them, brushed aside her knickers and slid his finger between her wet folds. Clara gasped at the contact and pushed her hips in his direction as he began rubbing along her clit. The Doctor moved his lips across her neck, the stubble of his beard gently scraping over her skin. 

She hated it when he removed his finger from her to undo his own belt and unbutton his trousers. When only his underwear separated her from his erection, Clara suddenly snapped out of her trance.  
“Doctor,” she asked, surprised at how husky her own voice sounded. She cleared her throat, “Do you have protection?”  
Apparently it was something he hadn't thought of earlier because Clara noticed his eyes widen, as if the blood was only slowly being transferred back to his brain.  
“Well?”  
“Upstairs,” he replied hesitantly, “I think. In a drawer. Probably.”  
“What?” Clara immediately pushed herself in a sitting position. How could he have forgotten the most important thing when he had brought her down here? And why did he even seem unsure about _where_ exactly he had put the condoms?  
She pushed her dress back over her thighs, suddenly feeling slightly angry at him. He had successfully managed to work her up, and now this.  
“Well, sorry, but I'm not doing it without,” she replied brusquely.  
“Hold on, I've got an idea,” the Doctor said and pulled his trousers back up. He left her sitting on the hood of the car to look through the passenger door. Apparently in vain, because he quickly moved on to do the same in the limousine.

“Ha,” Clara heard him say, “I found one. Glove compartment. Ah, those boys from security. Always reliable.”  
Clara frowned, got back on her feet and slowly approached the Doctor who was still standing next to the limousine. He opened the the door to the back and held it open for her.  
“Do you want to step inside?” he asked, his voice taking on a darker, mysterious tone.

Clara smirked at him and carefully set foot inside the limousine. It was slightly darker behind the tinted windows, but Clara could still make out how roomy it was. She slid into one of the seats and waited for the Doctor to close the door behind him.  
“Okay,” Clara giggled nervously, “I can't say I've ever done it in a limousine.”  
The Doctor shrugged. “Me neither. Wanna find out what it's like?”  
“Yes,” she smiled broadly and let him pull her on top of his lap.  
He cupped her face in his hands and pressed another kiss to her mouth as Clara moved to grind her hips against his crotch. The friction almost drove her mad, her sex itching for him to be inside her and causing the Doctor to utter a throaty groan beneath her.  
“Clara,” he mumbled breathlessly, his lips still on hers, “Stop teasing.”  
Just for the hell of it, Clara pushed herself down harder against him. The Doctor started laughing and finally broke the kiss.  
“I mean it,” he said, a smile on his lips, “Unless you want me to come in my pants, stop teasing.”  
“Oh, no, we don't want that,” she replied and moved away from him to free herself of her knickers while he pushed his own clothes down and out of the way. 

He fumbled with the condom and Clara watched him as he carefully slid it over his erection. She was unable to look away, imagining what it must be like to touch him, to feel him inside her. Climbing back onto his lap, she still gazed down at him in anticipation and took him in her hand, leading him right to her entrance. Gasping, Clara slowly sank down on him. The Doctor groaned and closed his arms around her, his hands settling on her hips as they established a rhythm. Clara watched him close his eyes and throw his head back while his hands kept guiding her, incessantly pushing her down onto his cock. With each thrust burying deeper inside her, Clara found her mind slowly slipping away and she pressed her lips together, trying to suppress a moan that still somehow escaped her throat. She hadn't even noticed his hand leaving her hip, but suddenly Clara was overwhelmed by another sensation, his finger back on her clit that stroked her as she was rocking against him furiously. The Doctor was panting beneath her, pushing himself up against her rhythm that became increasingly flighty.  
Clara whimpered feverishly as she could feel her orgasm slowly building up inside of her, pushing herself down on him faster and harder, the pace of it almost making her lose her mind. She barely noticed the Doctor's needy groans as she shut her eyes, her head falling back when her rapture took over, sending jolts of almost painful pleasure through her body, leaving her absolutely blissful and gasping for air.

Only now that Clara came back to her senses her attention went back to the Doctor, who still remained inside her, but motionless, breathing heavily and still pulsing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He pulled her down and locked their lips in a deep kiss.  
“Clara,” he repeated her name breathlessly like a mantra as she removed herself from him and sank down in the seat next to him.  
For a long moment neither of them said a word, and nothing else could be heard other than their breathing.  
“So, sex in a limousine,” Clara began after a while, “Check.”  
They both started laughing and the Doctor discarded the condom, throwing it carelessly on the floor of the car, and pulled his pants back up. His head turned into her direction and Clara could see nothing in his eyes than utter amazement before his hand reached for her cheek and he pulled her in for another kiss.  
“That is certainly not what I expected when I came to your concert today, which, by the way, was awesome,” Clara said and frowned slightly, “And I realize I could have told you that earlier.”  
“Not what I was expecting, either,” the Doctor replied, smiling broadly at her.

Clara replayed the whole evening in her mind. Nothing of it made any sense to her. The Doctor was a rock star, famous for his wild parties and his even wilder sex life, and yet here he was, picking Clara over any of the other women at the party and smiling at her like a besotted teenager. She realized that now might be her best chance at getting an answer out of him. It was a bold move, a bold question, but she just had to ask.  
“Doctor,” she began carefully, “You don't really do this sort of thing very often, do you?”  
“Never,” he replied before his mouth found its way to her own again, gently nibbling on her lower lip.  
Never. _Never?_ Clara tried to wrap her mind around what he had just said, but found herself distracted again by his hand wandering up her thigh.  
“Since we checked off sex in a limousine, how does sex in a very soft and comfortable bed sound?” the Doctor whispered as his lips brushed past her ear.  
She desperately wanted to form a clever answer but his hand playing around the hem of her dress was keeping her mind busy.  
“Been there, done that,” she breathed in reply.  
“With me?”  
“No.”  
“Would you like to?”  
Clara suddenly stopped his hand and leaned back to be able to look at him. She was confused again, apparently her dominant emotion today.  
“Are you asking me to stay the night?” Clara asked carefully.  
“Yes,” the Doctor said simply in his usual, low voice.  
Clara hesitated for a moment, but then heard herself agreeing.  
“Okay,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sooooo much for the reviews. Hope you enjoyed this one as well ;)


	5. Chapter 5

“If we sneak right up without stopping by the living room, they probably won't even notice us,” the Doctor said as they were making their way back upstairs. They passed another floor and Clara started to wonder how many rooms this house could possibly hold.  
“What's on this floor?” she asked curiously, pointing to the door.  
“Oh, that's the gym and Jacuzzi,” he explained matter-of-factly and was about to move on, but Clara stopped.  
“Wait, you're telling me this house has a Jacuzzi?”  
The Doctor walked back to her and folded his arms around her back.  
“If you want to, we can try it out tomorrow,” he placed a swift kiss in her lips, “But right now I would really prefer the bed.”  
“Okay. Deal,” Clara agreed with a smirk and let the Doctor take her hand and lead her upstairs.  
She had given up trying to imagine what the rest of the house must look like and followed the Doctor into the plain bedroom that held hardly more than a huge bed, two bedside tables and a wardrobe.  
“The bathroom is right next door,” he told her, pointing at the door, “I was going to ask one of the guys to bring us some food so we don't have to go downstairs. Do you want something in particular?”  
Clara shrugged, letting herself fall flat on the bed.  
“I'll have what you're having,” she replied and wrapped herself in blankets, “Do you like living here?”  
She couldn't say where the question had come from, but she had seen enough of the Doctor and this house to doubt this was actually his style.  
“I don't live here,” he said, a small chuckle audible in his voice, “This is sort of a model home that I show to people, that I use to host parties like this one. I live in Scotland.”

Clara stuck her head back through the blankets and watched the Doctor phone someone downstairs, asking them to bring up some of the food and if she was quite honest, she was starving. Luckily it only took a few minutes before Ralph knocked on the door, handing over a plate filled with fresh fruits and appetizers.  
“I think you can start driving them all home,” the Doctor told him, “I'm not coming back downstairs.”  
“Okay. What about. . .” Ralph asked carefully, nodding towards Clara.  
“Oh, no, Clara is staying. Thanks for the food.”  
Clara watched as Ralph threw her another glance and he looked pretty pleased with himself. After all, he had insisted on her invitation. If she saw him again in the morning, Clara promised herself that she would thank him again. 

The Doctor settled on the bed next to her, placing the plate of food between them. Clara immediately reached for a piece of cantaloupe.  
“How is Scotland? I've never been there.”  
The Doctor exhaled. “It's. . . home. There really is nothing more to it. Are you from London? Originally?”  
“No, I'm from Blackpool. I moved to London to go to university, but I sometimes miss it. The piers especially. And the water.”  
“Do you still have family there?” the Doctor asked, taking a bite from one of the appetizers.  
“Yes, my dad and granny. And Linda,” Clara grimaced in disgust.  
The Doctor chuckled. “I take it from your expression that Linda is your stepmother?”  
“Yeah,” Clara sighed, “She's not actually that bad. I just think my dad could've done better. Do you still have family in Scotland?”  
“No, not anymore,” the Doctor replied sadly, “But I could never really say goodbye to Scotland permanently. It's just a part of me and always will be.”

They talked for a long while about home, and leaving home, the landscape, where they had been to, all the cities the Doctor had already given concerts at before he finally pushed the plate aside that had separated them and pulled Clara closer to himself. She sighed as they fell back into the pillows, the Doctor's arms wrapped tightly around her.  
“Do you ever feel . . . surreal?” she asked him, laughing at herself because she thought it sounded utterly ridiculous.  
“You mean right now? Yes. Absolutely,” the Doctor replied, “In the past few hours I've had a very long debate with myself about whether I should actually try and make a move.”  
“Do you regret it?”  
“I think I would have regretted it had I not made a move,” he turned his head to look at her, “I really don't do this. Usually. Pick up girls.”  
“The whole world seems to think you do,” Clara said softly.  
“They think a lot of things about me that aren't true. And there are things they don't have the slightest idea of,” the Doctor inhaled sharply, “Maybe I will tell you some day. When I'm absolutely sure I can trust you.”  
“Some day?”  
The Doctor closed his eyes, suddenly laughing. “That just sounded like I thought way ahead of tonight, didn't it?”  
“Slightly,” Clara agreed with a smile.  
“Don't listen to me. I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm just being stupid.”  
Clara reached for his face, cupping his cheek in her hand to make him look back at her. “I think you're being very sweet.”

 

Before she could say any more the Doctor bent forward and kissed her again, his arms pulling her closer and finally on top of him. Clara couldn't say why she had been worried about her mismatched underwear earlier as their clothes were discarded on the floor only minutes later. She couldn't say why she had been worried about anything, as everything he did seemed like a praise to her body. He showered her skin with kisses and Clara ran her fingers through his hair as the Doctor buried his head between her thighs, giving all and not demanding anything in return. All sense of time was lost on her as they explored each other, moving slowly, like two wanderers with nothing to discover than the other. The Doctor held her as he moved inside of her, his lips only leaving hers at the moment of climax, but never for very long before they found a new part of her body that needed their caress.

The sun was already shining through the blinds when they both sank back into the pillows, utterly spent but at the same time not yet in the mood for sleep. Clara sprawled out, lying flat on her stomach, doing nothing but breathing in the scent of him as the Doctor was lying next to her, his fingers drawing patterns on her back. 

“We should probably try to get some sleep,” Clara suggested after a while.  
“Mhhh,” the Doctor sighed, letting his lips brush along her neck, “But if we sleep it's gonna be Sunday when we wake up. And on Monday I will have to leave for Scotland.”  
“You love Scotland,” she reminded him.  
“But Scotland is very, very far away from where you are,” he said sleepily.  
“Sleep,” Clara grunted, “I need it. And you need it, too.”  
She turned herself around, her head nestling against his chest as his arms wrapped around her again. Clara sighed happily.  
“You can have me all Sunday,” she whispered, but never got a reply. The Doctor had already fallen asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was shining right through the blinds and into her face when Clara finally opened her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where exactly she was and who was lying beneath her, but after that the memories of the previous night came back to her pretty fast. She had slept with the Doctor, the famous Doctor and he was still holding her, sleeping peacefully as if it was the most normal thing in the world.  
But it was normal, wasn't it? Two people liking each other, being attracted to each other? That was very normal. Just the pace of everything happening made it all seem so very unreal. And she did like him. After losing the nervousness, everything about the evening had been perfect and at the prospect of this wonderful time coming to an end very soon Clara suddenly felt a twinge in her stomach. What had she even done, sleeping with a rock star? This could never in a million years end in an even remotely pleasant way. He would go off to Scotland tomorrow and never see her again, and even if they managed to repeat this last evening, eventually he would still leave her heartbroken because it just couldn't work out. There was probably a very good reason that he was still single, or maybe he wasn't even single at all and that was one of the many secrets he was keeping from the world. 

When the Doctor started to shift beneath her, he closed his arms around her only tighter and pressed a kiss to her hair.  
“Good morning,” he mumbled sleepily.  
“Good morning,” Clara replied, smiling to herself. Now that he was up all her worries suddenly seemed to have vanished, leaving her with the feeling of being very happy and well rested.  
“What time is it?” she asked him and closed her eyes against the sunlight.  
“Noon, I think,” he turned his head in the direction of the alarm clock, “Almost 12. I'm considering staying like this all day.”  
“Yeah, that would be nice,” Clara replied and nuzzled her head against his bare chest. The smell that still lingered on him seemed like a heavenly mixture of an expensive perfume, sex and a scent that seemed to be entirely his own.  
“God, I love the way you smell,” she said before she could stop her sleepy self and buried her face in his chest and started kissing her way down to his belly button.  
“What?” the Doctor laughed, “All sweaty and in desperate need of a shower?”  
She traced his lower abdomen with her fingers, the tips of them barely touching his sensitive skin and Clara could feel him twitch under her kisses.  
“What are you trying to do?” the Doctor asked with a smirk, but his hands were already buried deep into her hair as if to keep her head exactly where it was.  
He was already half erect when she took him in her mouth, sucking him teasingly. The Doctor drew in a sharp breath and arched his back up, his fingers curling more tightly around her hair. Clara could feel him grow harder inside her mouth as she sucked him and the familiar tingling between her thighs returned. She suppressed it as best as she could, diverting her attention back to him. Running her tongue from the base of his shaft to the tip, she had a chance to glance up at him. His eyes were shut tight, his lips parted as his breath came out ragged. He was already deeply aroused, but Clara wanted to do better. She was overcome by the urge to make him utterly fall apart under her touch, if only to make him remember this weekend with her for a very long time.  
Her hands were feeling for his balls, kneading them gently between her fingers and she wrapped her lips back around the tip of his cock, her tongue sweeping over it in slow circles.  
The Doctor hissed sharply, lifting his hips to push himself deeper inside her mouth, but she didn't allow it. Clara was determined to make him beg for it. She dipped the tip of her tongue into his slit, already tasting him a little while his hands were gently digging into her scalp, trying to direct her mouth around him. She carefully placed her wet lips around him and allowed him to slowly glide into her mouth. The Doctor gasped when the tip of his cock hit the back of her mouth.  
“Clara,” he panted weakly, her name almost a moan, “Stop torturing.”  
Carefully she let her lips moved back up before applying more pressure and sucking him back in her mouth, allowing the tip to push through the barrier of her lips.  
He groaned as he pushed into her mouth, immediately trying to repeat the movement, but Clara held him back again.  
“Please, faster,” he begged her breathlessly.  
Pleased with herself Clara finally relaxed her muscles under his touch and allowed him to guide her now. His hips countering the movements of her head, steadily pushing himself inside her mouth at an increasing pace and Clara's lips were starting to feel numb.  
“Oh Clara,” he moaned again, and it was somewhere between a praise and a plea. “Have to. . .” another moan escaped his throat, this time deeper and more carnal. “. . . stop.”  
He was coming and she could feel it, taste it on her tongue as he continued to thrust into her mouth, unable to stop of his own free will, his mind already having gone blank from sheer lust. Once more she pressed her lips together a little harder and she felt him leaking into her mouth as his movements began to slow down. Clara was sure she heard him utter her name, but it was drowned out by the groans coming from his throat.  
She swallowed and settled back on the bed next to the Doctor, who still had his eyes closed and was gasping for air.  
“You're trying to kill me,” he murmured breathlessly, closing his arms around her, “You're trying to kill me with sex.”  
Clara started to chuckle. “There are worse ways to go.”  
“True. Absolutely true,” the Doctor said, sighing and pressing a kiss to her temple, “But I need to remind you that I'm slightly older and not capable of keeping up with your vigour.”  
“I think you're keeping up impressively,” she said but as soon as she had finished her sentence the door suddenly flung open.

 

Both the Doctor and Clara instinctively reached for the sheets to cover themselves as a woman appeared in the doorway. She seemed to be absolutely furious.  
“I call you God knows how many times this morning. No answer. None whatsoever,” she said angrily, her Scottish accent rather thick, “Until finally Ralph picks up the phone. And guess what he has to tell me?”  
Clara could hear the Doctor groan in annoyance.  
“That you're with someone,” the woman continued, the anger in her voice only rising, “That you met someone at the party, that she stayed here over night and that you don't want to be disturbed. May I remind you that we have a deal?!”  
“Clara,” the Doctor said, obviously trying very hard to stay calm, “meet Missy. My manager. Missy, meet Clara. Now, can we please discuss this some other time? As you can see you kind of walked in on something.”

He was angry, Clara could feel that. Angry and annoyed, but he was trying his best not to show it in front of her.  
“Oh, you can be damn sure we're going to discuss this later. You don't even know who this woman is, she could find out God knows what about you and sell it to the highest bidder. You know how much only the slightest piece of information about your private life is worth at the moment.”  
“Missy,” the Doctor growled, but his voice remained calm, “If you don't shut your mouth immediately and leave this house I will personally call The Mirror and tell them everything there is to know about me. And from the money I will buy a house some place where you will never find me. Now get lost!”  
The door was slammed shut and the echo of her footsteps could be heard rushing down the corridor. The Doctor sighed heavily.  
“Clara, I'm so sorry you had to witness this. Trust me, this is not how I have imagined this morning to be,” he apologized immediately.  
“It's okay. It's not your fault,” Clara said calmly, “Though, wow, your manager seems. . .”  
“Like a bitch?”  
“I was gonna say intense.”  
“She's very good at her job and I owe a lot to her. She was there when I had no one and really needed some help. She literally dragged me kicking and screaming out of a very dark place and I am still grateful for that, but she and I aren't always on the same page,” the Doctor explained to her, “Missy might seem demanding and fierce, but that's the sort of thing that has always worked in the past.”  
“You don't need to explain yourself to me. I get it. She's your manager, so she has to make sure you don't do anything that could ruin your career.”  
The Doctor took a deep breath. “I would love to explain everything to you. But Missy is right. I hardly know you and I need to be sure I can absolutely trust you. Please, don't take this the wrong way, it has absolutely nothing to do with you. But I, erm,” he paused for a moment, “I have to protect myself and you already know more about me than anyone, except for a hand full of people.”  
“It's okay. Really,” Clara reassured him and reached for his hand.  
“Can I trust you?” he asked her carefully.

Clara thought about it for a moment. She knew that she would never tell anyone any of the things she had learned about him, no matter how much money they might be offering her. And yet there was a small voice in the back of her head. She had been sent to report about his concert, and she would. Other than this one concert she had never been sent to report about anything, only doing CD reviews for a weekly magazine. But what would happen if the Doctor found out that she was working for the press? Maybe Clara should tell him right now and explain it. His reaction probably wouldn't be so bad if he listened to her. But what if he immediately decided she couldn't be trusted? She liked him a lot, and she wanted a chance at whatever it was that he had in mind for them. So she decided to keep her mouth shut about it until she had earned his trust.

“Yes,” she replied simply, “Yes, you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, sooooo much for the awesome reviews :)


	7. Chapter 7

“We could shower first and then have breakfast,” the Doctor suggested while he was searching the wardrobe for a clean pair for pants, “or we could have breakfast first, skip the shower and instead take a bath in the Jacuzzi?”  
“Jacuzzi, definitely the Jacuzzi,” Clara said, smiling, “But I'd like to brush my teeth first. Do you have a spare? And I should probably put my clothes back on.”  
“Hang on, I think I bought a new toothbrush. You can have that one,” he said and moved into the direction of the bathroom, “And you can have my bathrobe if you like. I'll just stay like this. The only other person in this house right now is Ralph and he's either watching telly or in his room, chatting with his wife in Scotland.”  
“You two seem to know each other well,” Clara commented and followed him into the bathroom. The Doctor went through a few drawers and eventually found the boxed toothbrush he had been looking for, handing it to her. “Thanks.”  
Clara looked at herself in the mirror and almost started to laugh, wondering how on earth the Doctor could even be having a serious conversation with her. She thought she looked like a raccoon with a wild hairstyle, but he didn't seem to mind at all.  
“He's my best friend, if you can call it that. Since I'm paying him to babysit me.”  
Clara chuckled. “Funny. He said almost the exact same thing to me yesterday.”  
“Anyway, I've learned to knock on his door. I walked in once while he was chatting with his wife. Got slightly awkward.”  
“Why?” Clara asked him, but immediately realized what it was that he had been trying to tell her, “Oh.”  
“What I'm saying is that Ralph won't bother us,” he said and wrapped his arms around her from behind, burying his face in her neck.  
His hair was tickling her and Clara started to giggle. “We will never make it out of the bedroom if you keep that up.”  
“Do we really have to?” the Doctor asked before he started to place kisses along the line of her neck. Clara sighed and gave up trying to make him stop. She was loving this if she was completely honest. The Doctor was so very sweet and attentive and she would love to stay with him in this house for more than just this Sunday. Clara had stopped being nervous altogether. He was no longer the famous rock star to her. He was just a man who knew damn well how to make her fall for him.  
“Okay,” the Doctor said and stopped abruptly, “Teeth brushing, breakfast and Jacuzzi. We've got to make the best of today.”  
“That's the right attitude,” Clara replied with a smirk.

For the lack of better alternatives Clara put on the Doctor's bathrobe which was much too big for her and kept sliding off her shoulder, something the Doctor said he absolutely didn't mind. But it was soft and the smell of him clung to it, so Clara didn't complain. Putting on nothing but his underwear, the Doctor grabbed her hand and led her downstairs.  
“I really hate how big this house is,” he muttered as they made their way to the kitchen, “You have to walk through a corridor, down a flight of stairs, through another corridor, through the living room until you've finally found the kitchen. Who even builds houses like this?”  
“Why on earth did you buy it if you hate it that much?” Clara asked as she sat down at the kitchen counter. Breakfast had already been prepared, probably by Ralph, and Clara couldn't even decide what to eat first.  
“It was Missy's idea,” the Doctor replied, helping himself to a croissant, “She said it suited a rock star. I prefer my own house in Scotland. It's just big enough and much homelier than this modern brick.”  
“What does it look like?”  
“Well, it's outside of Glasgow, in the countryside. Not much around other than fields and a forest and a lake. Well, Ralph and Cynthia - that's his wife - bought a small farm close by. It's very quiet and I can crank up the volume of my music without disturbing anyone,” the Doctor gave a slight chuckle, “It's cosy. Living room with a fireplace, a small kitchen, bathroom, without the Jacuzzi, and two bedrooms. That's enough for me.”  
“That sounds really lovely. And also slightly lonely,” Clara remarked as she took a bite off her croissant.  
“You could visit me,” the Doctor suggested.  
Clara suddenly looked up at him at his suggestion. Was he joking? But the way he looked at her made her realize he was actually serious.  
“I mean it, Clara,” he added as if he had read her mind, “Come to Scotland with me.”

She desperately wanted to find a good answer, but her brain seemed to have gone blank. A part of her wanted to agree immediately, pack her bags and catch the first train, but another was looking for a reason why this was a very bad idea. They had only just met. He was perfect. But she couldn't travel across the whole island for a man whose real name she didn't even know.  
“You said you wanted to see Scotland,” the Doctor continued, “I will show you around. The landscape is beautiful and if we're lucky we might even get snow soon.”  
Clara felt the Doctor reach for her hand.  
“Please, think about it. I will buy you a plane ticket and you can come with me. I would love to have you there,” he said sincerely, his eyes never leaving hers, “Please, just say yes.”  
Clara smiled at him, but it was a sad smile. “This sounds wonderful, but I really can't. First of all, I hate flying, I really do. There is no way you're gonna get me to step into one of those machines. And second, I can't. There is work and, to be honest, this is all happening very fast.”

It wasn't a lie. It really was happening very fast. Clara was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she had slept with him, and now he was already inviting her to fly home with him.  
“Okay,” the Doctor sighed sadly, “I get it. But if you change your mind, just say the word and there'll be a ticket waiting for you at the airport. Or the train station if that's what you prefer.”  
“Thank you,” Clara placed her hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly, “I promise I'll think about it. I just need a little time.”

 

After breakfast they immediately walked downstairs to the room that Clara had been most eager to see. When she stepped inside she thought she had entered a spa. The air was hot and humid and the room was filled with exotic plants. The Jacuzzi was right there in the middle of the room and Clara immediately threw the bathrobe aside and stepped into the warm, bubbling water.  
“Oh, this is glorious,” Clara exclaimed and she sank down in the tub. She watched as the Doctor kicked off his underwear and started to approach the Jacuzzi, but stopped right in front of it.  
“You're staring,” he remarked with a smirk.  
A huge grin spread on her face. “Oh yes, I am.”  
“You're having naughty thoughts again. I can see it in your eyes.”  
“You caught me,” Clara said and raised her hands above the water in a surrendering gesture.  
The Doctor stepped into the Jacuzzi and sat down next to her. Before Clara could even react he had wrapped his arms tightly around her and pulled her onto his lap. She combed her fingers through his silver hair, admiring for a moment how soft it felt before bending down to kiss him. His arms closed around her back, pulling her against his chest. His tongue brushed over hers as their kiss deepened and only moments later she could feel him against the inside of her thigh.  
“Seems like I'm not the only one having naughty thoughts,” Clara giggled as their lips parted for a second.  
The Doctor closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. He uttered a groan that was somewhere between deeply satisfied and utterly frustrated.  
“It's not my fault,” he said, “You're driving me insane, Clara.”  
He opened his eyes again and looked at her, more serious now than he had before. “I'm gonna miss this when I go back to Scotland. I'm gonna miss _you_. I haven't yet figured out how I will ever stop thinking about you.”

And suddenly Clara realized that she would probably find herself in the same situation once he had left London. She didn't know how she was just going to forget about everything that had happened since she had stepped into the concert hall.  
Clara had just assumed that she was only a fling to him, even though the Doctor had told her that this wasn't the case. To him, she realized, it was something very special and he desperately wanted to explore whatever it was that they had started last night. The Doctor was truly interested in her.

“You know,” Clara started before her sanity had a chance to kick in again, “I have a staff meeting that I have to attend tomorrow morning, but I could, you know, take some time off after that.”  
The Doctor cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying what I hope you're saying?”  
“Yeah,” she started laughing nervously, the excitement of her decision making her giddy, “What the hell, let's go to Scotland together.”  
The Doctor beamed at her, looking just as happy and excited as she felt before his hands cupped her cheeks and he pulled her down for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of update the past few days. Damn late shifts. But here is a brand new chapter which I hope you will enjoy :) And thank you all for your comments!


	8. Chapter 8

When Clara finally closed the door to her apartment behind herself she suddenly started wondering if maybe she had just imagined the entire weekend. She felt not quite of this world, the Doctor's last kisses and caresses still somehow lingering on her skin, along with the memory of the smile on his face when she had agreed to visit him in Scotland. Clara had lost count of exactly how many times they had done it in the last 24 hours, the memory of it starting to blur in her mind to form one big pool of feelings.  
The Doctor had been wonderful, almost unreal. So warm and kind and attentive that Clara got the feeling he would fly her to the moon and back if she only asked. During their brief goodbye he had stared at her like a besotted teenager, programmed his private number into her phone and made her promise to call as soon as she was out of her staff meeting the following morning. He had kissed her, and kissed her, he had told her he was looking forward to seeing her in Scotland and he had kissed her again before rushing off to see his manager. 

Clara banged her head against the door repeatedly. They had only been separated for an hour and she was already starting to feel empty without him next her. The Doctor had successfully turned her head in just a single day and yet it felt strange. One minute Clara felt like she had known him all her life and the next she was reminded of just how many secrets he was keeping. Secrets he had promised to share with her, but Clara wasn't someone who enjoyed the mystery surrounding a man. She wanted to know him, know what she was getting into, to gain some form of control in this newly formed relationship, if she even dared to call it that. But she knew there was only one way to do it, and it was to find out the long way around. 

 

Clara moved away from the door and headed for her desk. She desperately needed to clear her mind. After all, she had an article to write that needed to be on her boss' desk the next morning and she could hardly write an elaborate and distant report on his concert while she could still remember so vividly just exactly how his voice sounded when he called out her name during the moment of climax.

She had just sat down on her desk and opened her laptop when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. Clara retrieved it and looked at the screen.

_The Doctor  
Hello beautiful, did Ralph manage to drop you off safely?_

Clara smiled to herself and typed a reply.

_Yes, I just got home. Please, say thank you for me again. It was really nice not having to take the Underground. In fact, the whole weekend was just wonderful. Thank you so much for that._

She turned her attention back to the laptop and even managed to open a new word file before her mind went blank. The concert suddenly seemed a hundred years in the past, like the whole world had moved on while she and the Doctor had been turning in the sheets. Luckily her phone provided her without another excuse to distract herself from work. 

_Trust me, when you come to Scotland it'll be even more wonderful. I'm already making a list of all the things I'd like to show you. Pack some warm clothes. I'm glad you decided to come and hope you won't change your mind over night._

Clara giggled. She wasn't going to change her mind. In fact, with every passing minute that she wasn't with him she was growing more and more sure that she had made the right decision. 

_I am looking forward to it. And can I pack some not so warm clothes, too? For the nights? ;)_

She couldn't really tell what had made her write that, but somehow she was feeling cheeky. Clara knew that she could just be comfortable with the Doctor.

_Clara, you can't write me that when I am about to go to bed. I need to sleep and my mind might just wander off. . ._

In a sudden flash of bravery Clara jumped up from her chair and walked into her bedroom. She went through the drawer with her nightwear and found the exact thing she was looking for. She quickly stripped off her clothes and slipped into her red nightie that was the perfect compromise between revealing too much and yet letting just the right parts shine through. Clara snapped a picture of herself and sent it before she could change her mind.  
It took the Doctor a few moments to reply.

_I changed my mind. Come back NOW!_

His message made Clara chuckle. And she also realized that maybe the Doctor wasn't the one in control of this relationship after all. Clara seemed to have turned his head just as well as he had turned hers.

_I'm packing it. You can take it off me tomorrow._

This time his reply was instant.

_That is really unfair. How am I supposed to sleep now?_

She couldn't say what surprised her more. The fact that he was still thinking about sex after the weekend they had just had, or the fact that her own body almost instantly reacted to the imagine of him touching himself at the thought of her. It was almost as if he had been starved for months and she was the first fountain of water in a wide desert. But it couldn't be. Not the Doctor. Not him.

 

Her phone rang before she could even type a reply. The Doctor was calling her. Nervously she tapped on the green button.  
“Clara, you are an evil witch,” he said in a low voice, “You've put a spell on me. This state can't be normal.”  
“Oh?” Clara chuckled slightly and let herself fall onto her bed. She considered the laptop in her living room and her article for a moment and then decided she would just wake up earlier and do it tomorrow when her thoughts had cleared a little.  
“I'm glad you've decided to come to Glasgow,” he repeated, “You've been gone for an hour and it already seems too long since I saw you.”  
“I was thinking the same thing when I got home. Although my approach was diversion,” she admitted with a tiny laugh, “I think the last day was just. . . very intense. I feel a little overwhelmed and yet I just want to dive in deeper.”  
“We're doing the right thing,” the Doctor suddenly said as if he knew her doubts were beginning to resurface, “If you see a good thing, you just have to grab the opportunity. Even if it means taking a risk.”  
“You consider me a good thing?”  
“Absolutely,” he replied earnestly.  
“Doctor,” Clara began, but his voice interrupted her.  
“Don't ask me questions, Clara. I promise, when you come to Scotland I will tell you everything there is to know about me. You will understand or you will change your mind and go back home. But it's a long story and I would rather not do it over the phone.”  
“It's okay,” Clara said, “I can wait for a bit longer.”

 

There was a pause during which the only thing she could hear was the Doctor's breathing.  
“So,” he said after a while, “Are you still wearing that red nightie?”  
“Doctor,” she scolded him, “Diversion, remember?”  
“Sorry,” he began to laugh, “I should sleep. My plane leaves at 8 and you've really worn me out. I don't know how I can even still think about sex.”  
Clara giggled. “That's my witch magic.”  
“If that is so, keep it coming. I will not complain,” he let out a tired groan.  
“Go to sleep,” she told him, “I will see you tomorrow.”  
“Looking forward to it. Tell me when you get on the train. I will pick you up at the station.”  
“I will. Sleep well,” Clara whispered, letting her head sink deeper into the pillows.  
“You too, beautiful,” he said, his voice already sleepy before he finally hung up. 

Clara quickly set the alarm on her phone and turned off the lights before she reached for the duvet and rolled on her side with a heavy sigh. Tomorrow she would see the Doctor again and a smile spread over her face at the thought of him before she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments :)))


	9. Chapter 9

Clara woke up the next morning and to her surprise she felt well rested and extremely happy. She had been expecting her doubts to return, but all she felt was the warm glow of anticipation. In just a few hours she would see the Doctor again.  
She threw the duvet aside and got out of bed, heading straight for the coffee maker before sitting down at her desk. She was proud of her own article when she had finished her word count and re-read it a couple of times. To her own ears it sounded very professional, given the circumstances, maybe a little too distant, but her boss would never notice. He might not give her another concert to report from soon, but if Clara was honest, she really had only wanted the job because of the chance to see the Doctor live.  
She saved the file on a flash drive and went back into her bedroom. Clara's suitcase had already gathered dust, so she quickly brushed it off and turned around to her wardrobe, only to realize a very important thing. 

 

How long would she even be staying in Scotland? They hadn't even touched the subject of how long the Doctor wanted her to stay. Was he thinking about three days? Three weeks? Given the fact that they were undeniably crazy about each other, Clara decided that he would hardly send her home after only a few days. A week seemed like a reasonable period of time to her, although she didn't want to rule out the possibility of staying a few days longer, so she decided to pack accordingly. A few pairs of trousers, a few shirts, a nice dress just in case and the nightie the Doctor had liked so much the previous night. Happy with her selection, Clara headed for the shower.

 

The staff meeting went by slowly and Clara found herself counting the minutes. She desperately wanted to hand in her article and board the first train to Glasgow. Finally, after over an hour, the chief editor spoke the words she had been longing to hear “and I wish all of you a nice and productive week”.  
Clara immediately jumped up from her chair to catch him before he could disappear in his private office.  
“Oh, right, your article about the concert,” he said as Clara handed him the flash drive.  
“Yep, all done. But there is something else,” Clara began.  
“Oh?” her boss eyed her with interest.  
Clara had found the perfect lie that would get her out of work for a while, she had even rehearsed it under the shower earlier. After all, she could hardly tell him the truth.  
“My dad's had a little accident,” Clara said, trying to look sad, “Nothing bad, but he broke his leg and can't really move around. He needs me to come to Blackpool and help him out for a while.”  
“Okay,” her boss replied. Getting out of work wasn't a big deal. Clara was hardly irreplaceable, “How long do you think it'll take?”  
“Couple of weeks, four at tops,” she lied, “If there's anything you need me to do in the meantime, just send an e-mail. I'll do it from there.”  
“That won't be necessary. Just take care of your father,” the chief editor said before he turned around and disappeared behind his office door.

 

Clara rushed out of the building as quickly as she could and headed home to grab her luggage. An hour later she was standing at the train station, her ticket in one hand and her phone in the other.  
“I am standing at Euston Station,” Clara announced happily when the Doctor picked up his phone, “Train's leaving in twenty minutes, so I'll be in Glasgow in about 5 hours.”  
“Wonderful,” he said, but he sounded distracted and she could hear rustling in the background.  
“Is everything okay? You sound busy.”  
“I, . . . errr. . . I just came in a while ago. Cleaning the house. Sorry, I'm a bit of a slob,” the Doctor laughed nervously, “5 hours you say?”  
He sounded a little relieved.  
“Yes,” Clara giggled, “Is that enough time to drop a bomb on your house and buy a new one?”  
“Yes,” he replied with a chuckle, “I'll pick you up at the station.”  
“See you,” Clara said and hung up. With a sigh she grabbed her suitcase and made her way to the platform.

 

Once she had boarded the train Clara suddenly realized that she should probably tell someone that she was going away, so she decided to call her father and tell him she would be visiting a friend in Scotland for a while. Her dad seemed surprised, but didn't ask any more questions, so after the phone call ended Clara just decided to lean back and close her eyes. Just a few more hours. . .

 

Stepping off the train in Glasgow central felt strange, to say the least. It was already dark and slightly colder than it had been in London and Clara wrapped her coat more tightly around herself. The whole place was swarming with people. How was she ever supposed to find the Doctor in this mess?  
Suddenly her phone started buzzing in her pocket and Clara checked it to see that the Doctor was calling.  
“I can see you, beautiful lady,” the Doctor said.  
Clara looked around, but couldn't spot him in the crowd. “Where are you? Are you camouflaged?”  
“Right here,” he replied and then Clara finally saw him.

She didn't think she would have recognized him had she not been looking out for him. The Doctor had turned up the collar of his grey coat and he was wearing his Ray Bans although it was already dark outside. Clara hung up, smiled and made her way towards him. Now that she saw him she could hardly wait to kiss him again. Would he even want to kiss her in public? Clara hoped that he would because he looked so good, unshaven as he was and with his hair all wild and tousled. When she stepped closer she noticed the huge bouquet of flowers he was holding in his hand and the big smile on his face.  
Before she could even make up her mind about how she would say hello to him, the Doctor had taken off his sunglasses, closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up in a spinning hug. Clara squealed a little in surprise, but closed her arms tightly around him. As soon as he had set her down, he bent in for a kiss, smashing their lips together with a passion that for a moment made her forget about everything that was happening around her.  
“Ehem,” Ralph cleared his throat next to them after a few moments. 

The Doctor broke the kiss only reluctantly, his eyes sparkling and fixed only on her.  
“So good to see you,” he whispered, smiling.  
“Good to see you, too,” Clara giggled, trying to catch her breath. She quickly nodded towards Ralph to greet him before turning her attention back to the Doctor.  
“Ehem,” said Ralph again, “I think you've been spotted. Someone's taking pictures.”  
“I don't care,” the Doctor told him, his eyes still glued to Clara before he swiftly kissed her again.  
He retrieved the bouquet from behind her back and handed it to her.  
“I brought you a little something. Hope you like roses,” he said.  
“Oh, you shouldn't have. Thank you,” she replied sweetly, looking up from the flowers again, “They're wonderful.”

 

The Doctor bent down for another kiss, but this time it was the flash of a camera that disrupted their moment. He quickly lifted the flowers to shield Clara's face before he turned to the rude photographer.  
“Hey, you,” the Doctor said, addressing the man with the camera, “On your bike! This pretty girl here is all mine, so don't get any ideas!”  
Clara giggled as the Doctor took her arm and led her in the opposite direction of the photographer and to the exit of the train station.  
“I don't think he was after me,” Clara remarked with a smirk.  
“Can't be too careful with those,” the Doctor said and placed a kiss on her head.

 

Ralph had taken Clara's suitcase and was walking a few steps behind them.  
“Was that clever?” he asked carefully.  
The Doctor shrugged. “Who cares?”  
He turned back towards Clara and smiled at her. “I managed not to blow up the house. Wanna go home?”  
“Would love to,” she replied with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments :)


	10. Chapter 10

The Doctor held the car door open for her as Clara slid inside. She scooted over so he could take the seat next to her. Again she found herself giggling in excitement.  
“I can't believe I'm actually in Scotland. This is crazy,” she said, laughing.  
“I'd have said it's great, but crazy works, too,” he replied once he had sat down. The Doctor bent over to her side and cupped her face in his hand, bringing her closer for another kiss. His fingers buried deep inside her hair as he gently sucked her bottom lip. Clara hadn't even noticed how her own hands landed on his thighs, but soon her fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans. 

“I'm still here by the way,” Clara suddenly heard Ralph's voice coming from the front of the car, “Just thought I should let you know.”  
The Doctor bit down on her lip and reluctantly pulled away.  
“Sorry,” he said to Ralph, that happy grin still on his face and eyes remaining on Clara.  
“Don't apologize. At least now I know what it must have been like for you when I met Cynthia,” Ralph commented.  
Clara thought she should at least try to contribute to the conversation. Ralph was a nice guy and she hadn't really spoken to him since her arrival. She felt a little bit guilty. “Cynthia's your wife, right? I'd love to meet her.”  
“The one and only Misses McGraw. Most beautiful woman on earth,” he said with a hearty sigh.  
From the corner of her eye Clara saw the Doctor move. As she turned back towards him she saw him smiling and shaking his head and eventually pointing towards her. He mouthed the words “you are” and Clara found herself giggling yet again.  
“Yes, you and Cynthia should just come over tomorrow night. We could have dinner and I've still got a Monopoly game that hasn't been used in a few decades,” the Doctor suggested. 

At the mention of dinner Clara suddenly realized how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten since she had boarded the train in London.  
“I'm sure Cynthia will love the idea,” Ralph said.  
“Speaking of dinner,” Clara said carefully.  
The Doctor suddenly turned around, looking rather shocked. “I'm so sorry, Clara, I should've asked. You must be starving,” he gently took her hand in his, “I know a nice, little restaurant not far from here. Do you like Italian?”  
“Actually,” she hesitated, “I don't really feel like sitting down in a fancy restaurant. I've been on a train for hours. I just want to kick off my shoes and relax.”  
“Well, what do you suggest?” the Doctor asked her.  
“There's always the drive-through,” she shrugged slightly.  
The Doctor burst into laughter. “I am not taking you to McDonald's.”  
“Why not?” Clara asked, “It's fast, it's cheap, it's practical and we don't even have to leave the car.”  
“I will not let fast food from McDonald's be the first dinner I buy you,” he insisted, still laughing.  
“Why? Is it not rock 'n roll enough for you?” she mockingly raised an eyebrow.  
“It's just not classy, Clara. Let's go somewhere nice.”  
“Oh, come on. I'm hungry, you're probably hungry, too, Ralph can eat with us without looking like an awkward third wheel and look,” Clara pointed out of the car window, “There's a huge, shiny, golden M right there.” The Doctor groaned in defeat. “Ralph?”  
“To McDonald's?”  
“To McDonald's,” the Doctor confirmed and turned back towards Clara. “There. Happy now?”  
Clara leaned in and pecked him on the lips. “Very.”

Ralph pulled up at the drive-through window and placed their order until Clara suddenly thought of something else she would like to have.  
“Uh, and a milkshake,” she added.  
The Doctor rolled down the window on his side and leaned outside. “Can you add a milkshake to that?”  
Clara watched as the employee's mouth fell open.  
“Uhm. . . uhm . . . errrrr. . . what. . . flavour?” the young man stammered and slowly raised his hand, pointing at the Doctor, apparently either in shock or awe.  
“Strawberry!” Clara shouted from her side of the back seat.  
“Strawberry,” the Doctor repeated with a grin.  
“Uhm. . . sorry. . . aren't you?” the employee babbled on, “Sorry, can I get your autograph?”

“Is it always like that?” Clara asked, amused, as she took a bite off her burger a couple of minutes later.  
“No, not always,” the Doctor replied, his voice suddenly taking on a much more sombre tone, “Every once in a while I get recognized by a fan or a journalist. Does that bother you?”  
She looked up from her food, slightly confused at the question. “Why would it bother me?”  
“I don't know,” he shrugged, “It can be annoying. You never know when it might happen. Might be when you're out grocery shopping or at dinner in a restaurant. Sometimes a person snaps a picture for their private collection, sometimes it ends up in a newspaper. It's . . .,” the Doctor sighed, “I don't know. Maybe it's not what you're expecting.”  
Clara found herself frowning. She didn't really understand where this conversation was headed or why he seemed sad or even insecure about the subject. “I'm not really expecting anything.”  
The Doctor nodded and quickly turned his attention back to the food in his lap.

The drive to the Doctor's home took about half an hour, which the three of them managed to fill with small talk although the Doctor seemed more laid back than he had before, it was almost as if he was lost in his own thoughts. His spirits only lifted when Ralph finally pulled up in his driveway.  
“Take the car home. I don't think I'll need it tomorrow,” he said absent-mindedly, “Just bring it back when you're coming over for dinner.”  
“Whatever you say, boss,” Ralph replied.  
The Doctor took Clara's luggage before she even had the slightest chance to reach for it herself and carried it inside. She followed close behind, now really curious about what his real home might look like. The house he owned in London had not met her expectations, but as it had turned out, this one definitely would.  
They crossed a small corridor and when the Doctor switched on the light in the living room, Clara found herself in a cosy and comfortable looking home. The first thing that caught her attention was the fireplace that was framed by a brick wall, firewood stacked up to both sides of it. An ocean of carpets, pillows and beanbags surrounded a small coffee table. She couldn't spot a sofa or chairs, but no less than seven guitars and a big book shelf.  
“I'm sorry. This place is the ultimate bachelor pad,” the Doctor said, laughing coyly.  
“Are you kidding?” Clara turned around to face him, “I love it. It's beautiful. You could maybe add a plant here and there, but other than that it's perfect.”  
“I've had plants. Plants and I,” he shook his head, “We don't really work out.”  
“Poor souls,” Clara muttered under her breath.  
“Do you want to see the rest?”  
“Of course!”

The Doctor led her through another corridor into the bright, rustic kitchen, which Clara also approved of immediately. The downstairs bathroom was big with a tub and shower and the guest bedroom held a small bed, another book shelf and a desk with computer.  
“You _could_ have this room if you want it,” the Doctor said casually.  
“I'd rather have a look at the other bedroom first before I make my decision,” she winked at him, “Just to make sure.”  
“Well, of course the master bedroom has the more comfortable bed.”  
“Oh? Do show,” Clara said impishly.  
She took the Doctor's arm and followed him upstairs, past another small bathroom and a storage room before he opened the door to the master bedroom.  
“Yeah,” Clara concluded with a smile, “I think it's this one.”

The bedroom walls were lined with dirty, grey wood. One corner was occupied by a big wardrobe, the other by two more guitars. The large bed took the centre of the room in front of a massive window.  
“You should look out there in the mornings,” the Doctor said, “When the fog rolls over the fields. One of the perks of living in the countryside.”  
“Hold on,” Clara suddenly noticed something, “Where is your telly?”  
“I don't own one,” he said simply.  
“Why? Everyone owns a telly.”  
The Doctor shrugged. “I did, at some point. It broke. I didn't miss it enough to replace it. But if you want to watch something, we can go out tomorrow and buy one.”

Clara opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. The Doctor had offered to buy a TV . . . exclusively for her. He had shown her around the house, insecure about its looks as if needing her approval.  
“That's not what I meant,” she said after a moment of confusion.  
“Well,” he began and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking at her, “We could watch something together. I haven't seen a good film in ages.”  
“You really don't have to do that just for me.”  
“It's not just for you. It's for us to enjoy together,” the expression in his eyes changed from happy to contemplative once more, “I want you to feel comfortable here.”  
“Why?” she breathed. Somehow her knees were growing weak again. Was this the moment? Was he going to tell her all about him now? She felt more nervous than she should.  
“Because I'm serious, Clara. You and me, I would like this to be something serious.”  
She swallowed hard.  
“I can see that you're reluctant and I don't blame you. You know I keep secrets, you've only just met me,” he said, “I know you need to get to know me first and I understand that. But I just wanted to let you know that I'm not playing games.”  
Clara nodded and a moment later started to laugh shyly. “Wow, and you picked the control freak for this.”  
“Clara?” he asked, still very serious. He wasn't laughing, not even at her control freak remark.  
“Yes?” she breathed, staring at him. What was coming now?  
“I just want to know if you,” he paused, his eyes wandering to some other point in the room, “If you at least consider us something _potentially_ serious?”  
“Yes,” Clara replied softly although she didn't know where the answer had come from. He was right, he was absolutely right. She didn't even know him, she only knew he had secrets that he would tell her about in the near future and the control freak inside her was keeping its distance, it was trying very hard not to fall for a man she didn't really know. And yet she had been drawn to him from the very first moment. She was crazy about him. And so far the Doctor had turned out to be absolutely lovable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand there's mooooore. Thank you all for the amazing reviews :)


	11. Chapter 11

His fingers were softly stroking her hair, tickling her neck and shoulders. Clara slowly opened her eyes to find that the sun was already shining outside.  
“Good morning,” his low voice said quietly.  
“Morning,” Clara mumbled, closed her eyes again and pressed herself more tightly against his bare chest. The Doctor's body was warm and Clara thought he made for the best pillow in the entire world.  
She felt him bend down and kiss her head before wrapping his arms back around her.  
“Can we stay like this all day?” he asked her.  
“Sure,” Clara agreed sleepily, “I don't mind.”

To her surprise the Doctor suddenly pulled her up and pressed his lips on hers.  
“My Clara,” he smiled, sighing, “You have no idea how happy you make me.”  
“Well,” she said and pecked him back on the mouth, “You make me very happy, too.”  
“You make me happier.”  
Clara started to laugh. “This isn't a contest. At least I hope it's not.”  
The Doctor pulled her in for another, longer kiss before closing his arms around her back.  
“Let's just go back to sleep for an hour or so,” he said softly and Clara closed her eyes against his chest, soon drifting off again.

The day passed too quickly for Clara's taste, even though they barely did anything besides lie in bed, have breakfast, talk, have a nice bath, prepare dinner and talk some more, but the evening was drawing closer and it wouldn't be too long until Ralph and Cynthia arrived. The Doctor told her he was going to change his clothes while Clara applied a quick layer of eyeliner in front of the bathroom mirror.  
“Maybe we should already put the toppings on the pizza dough,” the Doctor said and appeared in the bathroom doorway.  
“Yeah, sure,” Clara turned around and spotted the Doctor. She blinked a couple of times, but the view didn't change, “What is _that_?”  
“What is what?” he asked.  
“That,” she pointed at his clothes, chuckling, “Did you get dressed in the dark?”  
The first time Clara had seen the Doctor he had worn an elegant suit, yesterday it had been a pair of jeans and a dark jumper. Today however he had picked plaid trousers and a black jumper with holes in it.  
“What's wrong with the trousers?” he asked innocently, “We're in Scotland. Just be glad it's not a kilt.”  
Clara immediately pictured his last suggestion, which only made her laugh more.  
“Well, if you don't like them,” the tone in his voice suddenly changed as he stepped closer, “You will just have to take them off me.”  
“Don't tempt me, Mister Plaid-Pants,” Clara replied with a mischievous smile as her hand reached for his belt, pulling him up against her body.  
His hand wandered to the back of her head, his feet shuffling closer. “We've got guests coming any minute.”  
“Well, they're not here _yet_ ,” she said matter-of-factly.

Before Clara could brace herself, the Doctor had lifted her up and pressed her back against the bathroom wall. Her legs wrapped around his lower back while her fingers anchored in his hair. Their lips crashed clumsily as he was trying to hold her steady against the wall, pinning her between the tiles and his body.  
“You have to make it quick,” Clara mumbled as he bit down on her lip.  
“You ready?” he asked, slightly out of breath, but already fumbling around his belt with his right hand.  
“Mh-mh,” she squealed, her mouth already back on his own.  
The Doctor had finally managed to free himself of all the unnecessary layers of clothing, his trousers and pants dropping to his ankles. Holding Clara up with one hand, he used to other to stroke his length until it had grown completely hard. She watched, placing her hands around his back for more support, already tingling with anticipation until he finally shoved her knickers aside and pushed inside her with a throaty groan. Clara heard the lacy fabric rip, but found herself not caring as she felt his hardness slip inside her. She opened her mouth wide, but no sound came from it.  
The next thrusts hit harder, causing Clara to moan and dig her nails deeper through his shirt and into his back as if she held on for dear life. The Doctor uttered a series of breathless grunts as he increased his pace. His face was flushed with the heat of arousal, his hair wilder than ever. Just looking at the state of him brought Clara close to the edge.  
“Fuck,” she breathed as a thrust hit particularly deep, her voice begging him, “Harder, please.”  
The Doctor pressed her more tightly against the wall with the weight of his body and Clara closed her eyes and was beginning to feel the orgasm build up inside of her when suddenly the ringing of the door bell interrupted her delight.  
“No, no, no, no, no,” she complained, panting, “Not now.”  
She opened her eyes just in time to see the Doctor's face distort as he came inside her, but her own mood had completely vanished with the distraction of the bell.  
“I'm sorry,” he said breathlessly, his voice still strained from his own orgasm as he removed himself from her and carefully set her back down.  
“So sorry,” he apologized again before he placed a soft kiss on her lips.  
“It's not your fault. They could've waited another 30 seconds,” Clara replied grumpily. Instead of the utter satisfaction she saw reflected on the Doctor's face, she only felt really unsatisfied and still somewhat aroused. This was going to be a very long evening.  
“We probably shouldn't let them wait,” Clara said, her voice had taken on a more cheerful tone, “Or they're gonna think we just had sex or something.”  
The Doctor laughed as he pulled his pants back up and tucked himself in. “Yeah, I don't know how they could possibly get that idea.”

Clara sent the Doctor ahead while she changed her torn underwear and cleaned herself up. A look in the mirror confirmed that Ralph and his wife would definitely know what they had been up to. She could comb her hair, but the flush on her cheeks would never subside in time. Clara sighed and decided that she didn't care, so she went downstairs to greet Ralph and his wife.

Cynthia made a very nice first impression on Clara. She was a few years younger than Ralph, though the age gap wasn't as big as between herself and the Doctor and she wore a friendly smile on her face. While the two men arranged the bean bags around the coffee table, Clara and Cynthia went to the kitchen to finish preparing the pizza.  
“I hope this is good. I wanted to order, but the Doctor insisted on making the pizza all by himself,” Clara said as she scattered the cheese over their nearly finished dinner.  
“Oh, trust me, this _will_ be good,” Cynthia said, “The Doctor is an amazing cook. He absolutely knows what he's doing in this kitchen.”  
_Not just in the kitchen_ , Clara thought, but kept her mouth shut. She wasn't sure Cynthia would appreciate that much information.  
“How long have you known the Doctor?” Clara found herself asking.  
“Ralph and I have been married for almost 10 years, so I've known the Doctor for about the same amount of time. Ralph has been working for him a couple years longer though,” she explained, “We bought the house across the field shortly after cause it was just more practical and the Doctor has been a good friend right from the start. He helped us out so much when we were moving in and renovating. He watches our dog when we're out of town. Beneath the rock star facade he is a really good guy.”  
Clara chuckled. “You don't have to try and sell him to me. I,” she hesitated for a moment, “I don't really know much about his life . . . yet, but I can see that he is absolutely amazing.”  
“I'm glad he's finally found someone,” Cynthia said sincerely, “I think he's been quite lonely.”  
“I don't really understand,” Clara said, “He's so warm and generous and kind and good looking. He could have any woman he wanted.”  
“It's not as easy as that, Clara,” the woman said and looked at her as if trying to make sure Clara understood, “A man in his position, with a past like his. He has to be careful.”

Suddenly Cynthia turned her attention back to the pizza in front of them as if fearing she had already said too much.  
“There, all done. Now into the oven with it and we can have dinner in 20 minutes,” she said and turned around, leaving Clara alone in the kitchen with just the pizza and her own, very confused thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your sweet comments :) Hope you liked this one, too.


	12. Chapter 12

Clara found it hard to really focus on the game of Monopoly or the conversation. Yes, Ralph and Cynthia were lovely and they immediately included her in everything, making her feel as if she had always been a part of the group. The Doctor kept looking at her as if to make sure she was actually having fun and she found it harder and harder to pretend that she was as the evening went on. _A man in his position, with a past like his_. What could that possibly mean?  
“Clara,” the Doctor's voice interrupted her train of thoughts.  
“Mh?” she turned around.  
“You just landed on my street. You know, the one with the hotel,” he grinned broadly.  
“What?” her eyes turned to the board, “Oh. Ohhh. . . But I've got a mortgage on basically everything that's mine already.”  
“Looks like someone's bankrupt,” Cynthia hummed.  
“Yep. Sorry, Clara,” the Doctor agreed.  
“Aw, I suck at this game,” Clara pulled a face, her eyes still on the board.  
“Don't worry, we can play something else now if you want. But I'm not putting you in charge of any financial things soon,” the Doctor said with a laugh before he placed a kiss on her head. 

Suddenly Clara had an idea.  
“Oh, I know what we could play. How about Never Have I Ever? Huh? That could be fun,” she suggested, smiling broadly. Clara was really proud to have come up with the idea. It was the perfect chance to find out about some of the things the Doctor was so reluctant to tell her while still making it look like a game. Yet no one reacted to her suggestion. “You guys know it, right? Someone starts saying things like Never Have I Ever. . . for example, kissed a person of my own gender. And everyone who has actually done it has to drink a shot.”  
All of a sudden the room seemed very quiet, making Clara feel as if she had just suggested they should all strip out of their clothes.  
“I think we should probably play something else,” Ralph said after a moment, finally breaking the silence.  
“Why?” Clara asked, slightly confused and still feeling as if she had suggested something horrible, “We played this a lot. Back in college. It was usually fun. At least until the first person threw up.”  
“Ralph is right. We should play something else,” the Doctor said calmly.  
“Okaaaay,” Clara took a deep breath, looking nervously around the room, “Why is everyone looking at me like I just suggested we should shoot puppies for fun?”  
The answer came from the Doctor. “Because Ralph and Cynthia know that you won't find alcohol in this house.”  
Clara opened her mouth to speak and suggest they could still play with juice or whatever was in his kitchen, but he continued.  
“And that there are things about my past that I would rather tell you outside of a game. This isn't how I would want you to find out.”

“I think it's getting rather late. Ralph and I should probably go home,” Cynthia suggested carefully and Clara watched her nudge Ralph in the ribs.  
“Yeah, good idea,” Ralph agreed, “But it was a fun night. Great food, as usual. We should do this again.”  
They both rose from their seats and started making their way towards the door. Both said goodbye to Clara, but while Cynthia remained friendly and smiling as usual, Ralph looked a little bit concerned. The Doctor got up as well and accompanied them to the front door while Clara remained in the living room, waiting for him to return and feeling like she had just ruined the entire evening.

 

“I'm sorry,” she said immediately as the Doctor walked back into the living room, “I shouldn't have suggested it. I feel like I have ruined the whole evening.”  
“No, you haven't,” the Doctor said at once, “And it's not your fault. It's just that Ralph and Cynthia are among the few people who actually know everything about me and I guess,” he inhaled deeply, “I guess now is the time.”  
“The time for what?” Clara asked carefully and she sounded about as afraid as she actually felt.  
“The truth,” he replied simply, “And I truly hope that it won't scare you away. There are only 3 people apart from myself who know all of it and I haven't spoken about it in almost 10 years.”  
“I doubt it could be that bad.”

The Doctor sat down in the spot he had occupied throughout the evening and looked at Clara, indicating with his hand that she should join him on the floor. Clara took one of the pillows and sat down on the floor next to the Doctor. Reaching for his hand and squeezing it lightly, she rested her head against his shoulder.  
The Doctor took a deep breath, but hesitated to speak at first.  
“When I was at the beginning of my career I met River. She was a young archaeologist, a free spirit, travelling the world just like I did at that time,” he began, his voice taking on a sombre tone, heavy with grief and nostalgia, “I thought it couldn't get any better than that. My career was going extremely well, I had this wonderful woman by my side. We got married in secret. She didn't want her photos to be printed out in the newspapers and I was a rock star with a reputation to maintain, but we were happy. Or at least I thought we were.”

Clara waited for him to continue, but he didn't.  
“What happened?” she wanted to know.  
“We were married for almost a decade before I found out. She had been sleeping with my manager almost the entire time. I still don't understand how I could've been so stupid not to have seen it, but I guess I was just in love and I was blind.”  
Clara could see now why it must have been hard for the Doctor to trust anyone after his experience with his first wife. To be betrayed by someone so close and for that amount of time must have been difficult.  
“You must have been devastated,” she found herself saying and squeezed his hand just a little more tightly in a weak attempt to comfort him.  
“To put it mildly, yes,” he scoffed and gave a short, sad laugh, “It broke me. At that time.”  
The way he said it and the sound of his voice made it all too clear for Clara that he had never really managed to put the story of River behind him. Somehow it was still with him, still haunting him, still making it hard to really let others close.  
“It completely shattered my trust in the woman that I thought I would love til death do us part and a friend who had always been there for me, and I guess, by extend it shattered my trust in everyone. It took me a long time to let anyone close again. I felt betrayed and left alone by the two most important people in my life.”  
“While I was married to River and being a rock star I had already experimented a little. Drugs, of all kind, really. But when I lost my wife and my best friend on the same day, I just. . . lost it. I fell into a deep, dark hole and I didn't care that I was on my way to ruin my career or my health, I just wanted to stop feeling rather than deal with what had happened. Until Missy found me and gave me a good, hard kick in the ass.”  
The Doctor laughed at the memory of that and Clara suddenly understood what he had meant on their first day together when he had said he was still grateful to Missy.  
“Missy is probably the only reason I am still alive today. She declared herself my manager when I was an apathetic mess with no strength to even get out of bed. She helped me get clean, she helped me focus on my music again and she was really good at her job right from the start. Missy was never a friend, but she was the firm hand I desperately needed at that time.”

“There is one thing I don't understand,” Clara said reluctantly, “If you've been clean all this time, then why are you pretending to be a troubled rock star? I've read articles about you. They all still seem to think you've got problems. But look at you, you've done so well.”  
“It's a show, Clara,” he replied, “Just a show. It's what Missy came up with. She said that during my troubled time I sold more records than ever before because everyone loved the problematic rebel, so we decided to keep it up. Sex, drugs, rock 'n roll, all of that. It's nothing but an act.”  
“That sounds like a real burden. I mean, the person you were with at that time would have had to play along,” she suddenly thought of herself and if she was actually willing to do that. For the Doctor? Clara thought she would, but she wasn't sure.  
“I wasn't really with anyone since River, not seriously. I tried but before I even had the chance to open up to them I realized they just wanted the rock star, not the real me. And then there was always the possibility that I might have been wrong about a woman again and they would just go ahead and sell my secrets to the press, or worse, break my heart once more. I couldn't risk it.”  
“So all this time you've been with no one?” Clara asked. She felt a little special and kind of proud of herself to be the one the Doctor had finally picked even though she knew that this was the wrong moment for pride.  
“Not quite. Clara, I want to be honest with you,” he said hesitantly, “Missy and I, we. . . we've. . . I don't even know what to call it. When I felt so lonely to the point that I was about to blow my cover. . . Missy was there for me in those situations as well. It never meant anything to either of us, but I feel like you should know.”  
“But you've just opened up to me,” Clara realized, “You chose me in a room full of women. You invited me into your home, you told me everything, or at least a great deal of it.”  
“I'm tired of this game, Clara,” the Doctor said heavily, “I just want out. When I saw you, I was just instantly taken. You absolutely didn't fit in and you stood out like the only flower in a concrete jungle. I liked that and I was torn. Either I could do what I've always done, take you upstairs, tell you I'd like to sleep with you but had no condoms on me or pretend to be too high to get it up and if you wanted you could still say that it had happened, most women did. Or I could do it for real.”  
“And that's what you did,” Clara chuckled.  
“That's what I did,” he repeated with a smile, “And I loved every second of it. You were the only thing that felt real in a very long time and I thought 'it's now or never'. I don't want to play games any longer. I want something real. And I want it with you.”  
The Doctor turned his head to face her and Clara saw the question and doubt in his eyes. He was scared she might reject him after everything he had told her.  
“Do you think you can be with someone who has made a living out of lying to everyone for most of his life? Do you even remotely feel something for me or is it the rock star that you want?”

Clara thought about it for a moment. She had been unsure about her feelings for the Doctor until this moment. The fact that he was a famous rock star, the secrets she had known he kept, the thought that maybe she was just a fling or a distraction to him had all made her keep her distance emotionally. But now that he had told her everything, revealed the secrets that were not even remotely what she had been expecting to hear, Clara realized that she was beginning fall in love with the man she had had no idea he was.

She smiled at him. “Now more than ever.”

“You have no idea how happy you make me,” the Doctor grinned back at her. He let go of her hand and pressed his palms to her cheeks. He kissed her on the forehead first, then gently pecked her nose before his lips wandered to her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand another one :) Hope you enjoy and thank you all for the comments!


	13. Chapter 13

The days passed too quickly for Clara’s taste. After the Doctor had finally opened up to her she felt more comfortable around him and more in love than ever and her doubts about him had completely vanished. All those details that hadn’t made sense before, that had made her question his motivation and his feelings were now perfectly clear to her and now that she knew him, the real him, she was ready to let herself fall. He had told her everything about him and his past, everything except his name. Not even Ralph and Cynthia knew him so well as to know that about him and the Doctor had told her he would give his name away to a woman only when he was sure he would marry her. Clara decided she could live without knowing. It was him she cared about, not what he called himself and ‘Doctor’ was as good a name as any.  
During their first week together they had barely made it out of the house at all, or the bedroom, to be precise. Clara thoroughly enjoyed how crazy he was about her, finally understanding now that he had been lonely since his big disappointment in love and she was giving her very best to make him forget all about that. She wouldn’t let him down, not like River, not like the women who never quite made it past his rock star façade. The Doctor was the sweetest and most attentive man she had ever met and she would be damned if she didn’t try to give him back exactly what he was giving her. Clara’s only worry was Missy. After learning that the Doctor’s relationship with her wasn’t entirely professional Clara wasn’t sure how Missy would react to her when she found out. Despite the Doctor’s reassurance that their ongoing affair was purely physical, Clara wasn’t at ease. After all, some women were able to hide their true feelings well.

 

Two weeks after her arrival in Scotland, Clara once again woke up in the Doctor’s arms, but something seemed different today. The whole room was brighter than usual. She lifted her head, careful not to wake the Doctor and spied out of the window. A wide smile spread over her mouth.  
“Doctor,” she whispered as she nuzzled her head back against his chest, but her voice couldn’t conceal her excitement, “Wake up, it’s been snowing.”  
The Doctor shifted beneath her and his arms held on more tightly as if by a reflex to keep her close.  
“What?” he mumbled sleepily, not even opening his eyes.  
“Snow. Everything’s covered in beautiful, white snow.”  
“It’s November. That happens. Now come here and kiss me awake,” he said, still half asleep.  
Clara did as he asked with a smile and crawled on top of him, covering his chest in kisses and slowly making her way up until their lips met. Lazily he kissed her back, his hands stroking her hair out of their faces. Soon she could feel his body react to her touch and Clara broke the kiss and let herself fall back into the pillows next to him.

“No, none of that today,” she said, her voice as strict as possible, “Today we’re going to go out. I’ve been here two weeks and you said you’d show me around Scotland and so far I’ve only seen a few things in Glasgow that any tourist knows who’s ever been here.”  
Clara could hear the Doctor groan in frustration.  
“We don’t even have to drive anywhere. Just, you know, go for a walk, look at the landscape, get some fresh air. It’ll be wonderful.”  
“Yes,” he sighed, “You’re right.”  
The Doctor stretched his arms and pulled her closer to him again, planting kisses on her forehead.  
“You know, I’ve been thinking. I know you have to go back to London at some point and I was thinking. . .,” he paused.  
“Yes?” Clara asked, curious what he was going to say, “What were you thinking?”  
“I could sell the big London mansion that I’ve never liked and buy one I do like. A house to actually live in, maybe in north London. I could come down to London with you and we could choose one together.”

Clara raised her head, looking at him to make sure she wasn’t misinterpreting what he was saying.  
“Are you asking me to move in with you? Permanently?”  
“You don’t have to move in with me right away if you feel like it’s too soon and I realize that it is a big step and probably a little early in our relationship but,” he paused, “It is something I don’t mind working towards in the near future. I really want to be with you, Clara, and I already hate the thought of you going back to London while I stay here.”  
“I don’t want to think about that either,” she admitted, “But I don’t want you to move across the island just for me. You have this beautiful house here and your friends as well. Maybe...”

Clara hesitated. It was something that had been in the back of her mind since the night the Doctor had revealed everything to her. She had brushed the thought aside, telling herself it was too soon to think about such things. But her family lived in Blackpool, she had finished university and her friends were already scattered across the entire country. Her job? She had accepted that because it had seemed like a good offer at that time, but she would find something else, something that might even suit her better.  
“Maybe I could move here,” Clara suggested, “I don’t really know what is keeping me in London anyway. But I’m confused.”  
“Why?”  
“Because my heart tells me it’s perfect and that everything just fits, but my mind says that, yes, you are right, it is a big step and maybe it’s too soon. It’s only been two weeks and my heart is tricking me into thinking that it’s been forever, but it doesn’t change the fact that it has still only been weeks.”  
“Then let’s do it my way. We find a nice house in London, I keep this one, you keep your flat and we go for a trial run.”  
Clara cocked an eyebrow. “You do realize that I will end up just staying at your London house, right?”  
The Doctor chuckled. “It’s gonna be _our_ London house then. But at least we keep up the pretence of keeping our options open.”  
“Okay,” Clara laughed, “Calling it _our_ house sounds slightly scary, but I do like the idea. Let’s do it.“

 

Eventually Clara managed to coax him out of bed and make breakfast for the two of them. Cynthia had been right. The Doctor was an amazing cook, even the pancakes he made for breakfast seemed like the best she had ever eaten and if it wasn’t for the nightly workout Clara would have had to fear for her figure.  
It was already early afternoon when they finally headed out, dressed in the warmest clothes they could find. Clara breathed in the cold November air, marvelling at the smell and sight of the snow. The Doctor took her hand and together they strolled across the fields.  
“We should have taken stuff to build a snowman,” Clara realized after they had walked a while.  
“We could build a boring snowman,” the Doctor suggested, “Or just remember it for tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow is fine,” she replied and suddenly let go of his hand. Clara bent down, gathered a handful of snow and threw it at him while screaming ‘attack’.  
“Ohhhhh,” the Doctor breathed, laughing, “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

Clara broke out into a run, but she wasn’t fast enough and the snowball hit her right across the back and a couple of snowballs later, when both where completely covered in snow, it had turned into a full blown snowball fight. Clara took a huge handful and managed to find a way past his scarf, stuffing it into his shirt while laughing heartily at how disgusted he looked.  
The Doctor remained calm for a moment and turned around to face her. He wasn’t laughing, but he was grinning at her and Clara knew she was about to pay for her last attack. The Doctor darted forward, grabbed her by the waist and dragged her down with him, both falling down into the cold snow. His gloved hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her, his warm mouth on her own and Clara welcomed the body heat he was radiating and pulled him closer. 

A cold, wet nose on her forehead suddenly made Clara realized they were no longer alone. She opened her eyes to find a beautiful Husky standing above them, sniffing, licking and wagging its tail.  
“Ew, Arco, stop that,” she heard the Doctor say and watched him reach for the dog’s collar to pull it, and especially the dog’s tongue, away from their faces.  
He sat up, stroking the dog’s fur and looked around. Clara soon noticed Ralph and Cynthia as well. Apparently this Husky was the dog the Doctor occasionally watched for them.  
Cynthia laughed. “Sorry to interrupt, but when Arco smelled you there was no holding him back.”  
“It’s alright,” the Doctor replied and turned his attention back to the dog, “You just know who gives you the best treats, don’t you?”  
Clara watched him carefully. She was always a bit wary around dogs she didn’t know.  
“It’s okay, you can touch him. Arco is a sweet dog,” the Doctor reassured her and Clara carefully extended her hand to scratch the dog’s ear.

“We wanted to ask you if you could watch him tomorrow,” Ralph said after a moment, “Cynthia and I want to visit her mother. Just take him out for a bit, throw a couple snowballs and he will chase them until he’s tired.”  
“Not a problem,” the Doctor replied.  
“Yeah, we’d be happy to,” Clara, who was now already in a big cuddle session with the Husky, added.  
“Alright, we better get going. It’s getting dark already. Come on, Arco,” Cynthia called and the dog left Clara’s side to run back to his owners.

“We should go back, too,” the Doctor suggested. He had already gotten up and offered Clara a hand.  
“Great idea, I’m freezing.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Oh God,” Clara's teeth chattered and she was trembling all over, “When did it get so cold?”  
The Doctor closed the door behind them and she noticed that his lips were almost blue. “At least you're not the one who had snow stuffed down their back.”  
“Sorry,” she apologized, shaking all over, “Can we light a fire? I am positively freezing.”

The Doctor agreed only too happily to her suggestion and just 10 minutes later they were sitting on the fluffy carpet by the fireplace, covered in blankets and cuddled up against each other.  
“How are your hands?” Clara asked him as she nuzzled her head against his shoulder.  
“I can feel them again, if that's what you want to know,” the Doctor bent down, placing a kiss on her forehead, “I feel like we should roast marshmallows or something.”  
“Ooooooooor,” she began carefully, “You could play me a song.”

Clara looked up at him, trying to give the Doctor her best puppy dog eyes and found him smiling at her.  
He laughed. “Everything for you, my darling. What would you like? Metal? Punk rock?”  
She pouted at him, nudging him gently into the ribs. “Don't toy with me. I was thinking something romantic. I know you can do that, too, I've listened to your earlier albums.”  
“Yeah, but those songs I had written for my first wife. I don't really fancy playing them anymore,” he admitted.  
“You could write new loves songs. About you and me and sitting by the fire,” Clara smiled at him.  
The Doctor cleared his throat. “I have, actually. Well, I haven't written it down yet, but it's been going through my mind the last few days.”  
“Play it for me, please,” she begged him, still smiling, “I don't care if it's not perfect or not finished. I just want to hear you play.”  
“Alright,” the Doctor finally gave him. He struggled free of his blankets and walked across the room, grabbing a blue acoustic guitar and with that in his hand, he sat back down next to her.  
“That's a pretty guitar,” Clara noted and touched the dusty wood with the tip of her fingers.  
“It was the first real guitar I ever owned. Took me six months of scrubbing the floor in a record store after school to be able to afford it.”  
“It's very pretty. Does it sound pretty, too?”  
“Yes. Clara, I'm getting the drift. You'll have your song,” he laughed.

Clara giggled and sat up straight in front of him, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her. The Doctor started playing a couple of chords and Clara listened carefully as he started to sing. He never looked at her, but his gaze kept wandering between the guitar and the fire.  
“. . . come closer, my love, I'm badly in need of an afternoon's debauchery,” he finished the song and finally looked back at her.  
Clara smiled at him in amazement.  
“That was wonderful,” she said, “You wrote all of that in your head?”  
“That's usually how songs are made,” the Doctor suddenly held the guitar in her direction, “Here, you have a go.”  
“But I've never played. Ever,” Clara tried to tell him as he placed the guitar in her lap. The Doctor stood up, only to sit back down right behind her, her back touching his chest. 

He gently took her left hand and placed it on the neck of the guitar.  
“And this,” he rearranged her fingers while breathing into her ear, “is the A major chord. Very simple. Just press your fingers down like this.”  
The Doctor began strumming and to Clara's ears all the sound that came from the guitar was pure noise. It just didn't seem right to her.  
“You need to press your fingers down harder, darling,” he whispered into her ear and Clara could feel his breath on her skin.  
She began to giggle again. “I love how you call me darling.”  
“Well, _darling_ , try the chord again,” the Doctor said in a low voice but before she had the chance to do as he said Clara could feel his lips on her skin, sucking on it as his scruffy chin gently scratched across her neck.  
He kissed his way up to the spot behind her ear when a moan came over her lips. The Doctor took the guitar from her, sliding it across the floor and away from them before he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to his chest. Clara leaned back against him.  
“Say it again, please,” she asked him and closed her eyes.  
“Darling,” he repeated, his low, gravelly voice hardly a whisper. The way he spoke to her sent shivers down her spine, “I want to make love to you.”  
He pressed himself harder against her and his hand wandered to the button of her trousers. His skilled fingers unbuttoned them within seconds and his hand slipped inside her knickers. Clara gasped as his fingers slid between her folds, rubbing carefully and yet determinedly. She parted her legs a little wider for him.  
“Oh God, yes,” she breathed as his fingers slipped into her wetness, “I want that, too.”  
His other hand found its way beneath her jumper and she was so glad she had skipped her bra today. The Doctor cupped her breast in his hand and ran his thumb across her nipple while his lips still remained on her neck, nipping their way up and down from her shoulder and biting her earlobe. Panting and whimpering Clara pushed her hips up against his fingers. He was so good, so exactly right with every one of his movements that she soon started to drift off and forget the world around her. 

“Clara,” he said quietly, “I want us to come together this time.”  
His voice almost tore her out of her frenzy, but it was his fingers retreating from her that finally woke her up again.  
Clara turned around to face him and the Doctor was smiling hungrily. His eyes were dark with arousal and he kissed her before she could even say anything. In was in this moment that Clara realized that she loved him. No more falling in love, no more exploring – she loved him. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt and pulling over his head, quickly followed by her own jumper that landed right on top of his.  
The Doctor lifted her up by the waist and laid her down across the soft carpet, pressing her down with the weight of his body. Clara could feel him hard and heavy through the fabric of his trousers. He was wearing the plaid ones again and she hated to admit that they were starting to grow on her. The Doctor was kissing his way down, covering every inch of her skin with his lips, the stubble of his beard tantalising her as he finally arrived where she wanted him. His tongue swirled teasingly around her clit, torturing her with the promise of pushing inside her, but never keeping the promise. 

The Doctor pulled her trousers and knickers down completely and knelt down in front of her. Clara could see the outline of his erection pressing against the fabric, aching to be inside of her. She reached for his belt and opened it, finally freeing him. When all their clothes were finally discarded of, the Doctor wrapped his arms around her again and sank down on top of her on the furry carpet. His hard member was pressing deliciously against her clit and Clara found it very hard to concentrate on anything else.  
Still the Doctor took his time and smiled broadly at her.  
“You look so beautiful, Clara. I. . .,” he hesitated and Clara was sure he had been wanting to say the three words to her that had been on her mind as well during the evening. But instead he just smiled again and added, “My darling.”

He kissed her again, longingly, sucking her bottom lip and Clara moaned into his mouth. She was aching for him, she wanted him, she loved him and she wanted him and it was as if he had heard her silent plea. The Doctor reached between them and positioned himself. He entered her and Clara gasped at the sensation of him finally inside of her as she adjusted around him. Oh God, she wanted this, she wanted him and she wanted it to be exactly like this forever.  
“You okay?” he asked, his voice oddly strained.  
“Yeah,” she breathed with a smile on her lips.

The Doctor bent down to kiss her again and slowly starting moving inside of her, building up a lazy rhythm. Clara anchored her legs around him as she moved her hips to meet him, her hands clasping around his back. His face buried into her neck again, kissing her, his breath becoming quicker and hot against her skin.  
He groaned on top of her as she clenched around him while he buried himself deeper inside of her. She couldn't say how much time has passed, if it had been minutes or hours, but it didn't matter, not tonight.  
“Clara,” he muttered, panting, “My Clara, my darling.”  
“Huh,” Clara whimpered in reply as he was picking up pace, unable to hold himself back any longer, “Oh, yes.”  
She was so close and she knew that he was as well, his thrusts now coming hard and needy as he moaned into her ear, trying to muffle the sounds by gently biting down into her neck. Clara felt the orgasm crawl up on her from the inside like tiny sparks that soon grew into an overwhelming ocean of sheer pleasure coming down over her. She shut her eyes and gave herself to a throaty groan as the Doctor came inside of her, moaning her name before his head sank down to rest on her chest. 

They lay there for a long while, not saying anything, just breathing and panting and holding the other close and Clara wished this moment would never, ever pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments :) I am so happy that you enjoy this story!!!  
> P.S. The song he sings to her is an actual song called "Debauchery" by David Gray (check it out, it's lovely).


	15. Chapter 15

Clara slowly opened her eyes to realize the Doctor was already awake – and staring at the ceiling. They had fallen asleep on the living room carpet the night before and she started to notice the hard floor beneath her uncomfortably pressing against her bones.  
“Hey, you're up,” Clara said sweetly and shifted next to him. The Doctor winced and squeezed his eyes together tightly.  
“Yes,” he hissed, “Please, don't move.”  
Despite his warning Clara carefully untangled herself from him and sat up.  
“Are you okay? You look like you're in pain,” she noticed, a hint of worry on her voice.  
The Doctor took a couple of shallow breaths, his eyes still closed and his forehead oddly wrinkled. He seemed not in pain, but in agony.  
“Doctor?”  
“I am. Sleeping on floor. Not good,” he exhaled and forced himself to relax. Finally he opened his eyes again, “I hurt my back sleeping like this. When I woke up I tried to move but it was a stupid idea.”  
“Is there something I can do to help?” Clara asked immediately.  
The Doctor granted her a weak, but grateful smile. “No, I don't think so. I'll just have to sit this one out, or stay completely still in this case.”  
“Well,” she started, entirely at a loss as to how she could make him feel better, “Can't you at least take something for the pain? Painkiller or muscle relaxant or something?”  
“I can't, Clara,” he groaned in pain and frustration, closing his eyes again, “Substance abuse problem, remember?”  
“Oh, right,” Clara muttered. She hated to see him in this state and from the looks of it he really was suffering a lot, “There must be something I can do.”  
The Doctor only groaned in reply.  
“Okay, at least let me make you a little more comfortable,” she decided and got up. Clara quickly slipped into her knickers and her jumper before she gathered up a few pillows from the floor.

“I need you to lift your head for a moment,” she said, “I found a small pillow for your head and a bigger one for your legs. Trust me, it'll be more comfortable.”  
“No, Clara, please, don't make me move,” he begged.  
He winced when she touched the back of his head to lift it up and place the pillow beneath him and Clara noticed his whole body flinch, but eventually he settled down again.  
“See, that wasn't too bad,” she said sweetly and bent down to place a soft kiss to his forehead. The Doctor let her but nothing more and Clara realized how bad his pain must be if he didn't even feel like kissing her back.  
She moved on to his legs, intending to place a bigger pillow under his thighs, but the Doctor's pleading looks stopped her for a moment.  
“Doctor, I really just want you to feel better. This position you're in looks really uncomfortable and I think if I put a pillow under your thighs it's gonna take some pressure off your spine. Please, just grit your teeth for a moment, okay?”  
The Doctor nodded reluctantly and Clara lifted his legs. The Doctor cried out in pain.  
“Sorry,” she apologized quickly and shoved the pillow under his thighs, “Sorry, sorry. There. Should be better now.”  
She watched him as he sank down in the pillows she had given him and he looked a lot more comfortable, but no less in pain than before. Clara grabbed a second blanket and draped it around him.  
“Is there anything else I can do? Are you thirsty? Hungry? Can I get your anything?”  
“The phone. Maybe,” he let out another groan, “Gotta call Ralph and tell him dog walking is cancelled for today.”  
“Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it. I'll take Arco for a walk. And when I get back you'll get a warm bath and a massage. That'll help relax your back,” Clara bent down again and pecked him on the lips. When she came back up, she cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled, “You'll be as good as new in a few days.”  
The Doctor smiled weakly in reply. “If you say so. At least I've got my beautiful nurse.”  
“See? A compliment, you're already getting better,” she winked at him, “Now lie back and try to move carefully.”

 

Clara had only just finished breakfast and convinced the Doctor to at least have a few bites when Ralph arrived with Arco. She decided to go out with the dog immediately after Ralph had left, leaving the Doctor with his cellphone and taking her own with her in case he needed her to come back immediately.  
She had only been walking for 15 minutes and thrown a couple of snowballs for Arco to chase when her phone already rang. Yet when she checked her display, it wasn't the Doctor calling, but her boss.  
“Hi, this is Clara Oswald,” she answered.  
“Clara Oswald, you naughty girl,” her boss chuckled on the other end of the line, “How's the sick dad?”  
From his tone of voice Clara could tell that he knew.  
“What do you want?” she asked, sighing.  
“I want my employees to be honest with me. I want them to tell me they're off on a romantic holiday with Britain's infamous rock legend and not tell me lies about injured family members.”  
“I'm sorry,” Clara said, although she didn't mean it. If she had to do it all over again, she would.  
“You're lucky, Clara. I'm in a good mood today so I'm not going to fire you. . . immediately. Instead, I'm going to give you a chance,” her boss said, “You're going to give an interview. I saw the pictures, well, they're hard to miss, and it does look like you might know some intimate things about our beloved rock star.”  
“No,” Clara said immediately.  
“I'm not going to pressure you, Clara, you can take your time. In fact, take as much time as you want. 3 weeks, 4, two months, but when you come back, come to me and we'll set a date. I don't care if it's just you talking or you and the Doctor, but I want this interview. I want details.”  
“You won't get them,” she said again, more determined this time, “I'm not gonna do it.”  
“Well, it's either that or your job, sweetie. What's it gonna be?”  
“I don't care about my job,” Clara said, sounding angrier than she had intended, “In fact, I was thinking about quitting anyway. Fire me if you like, I don't care. I just need people like you to stay out of someone else's private life.”  
“Other people's private lives _are my job_ , Clara. But if that is your decision I can't help you. Just know, if you change your mind about that interview, you have my number.”

He hung up before Clara could reply anything else. She had just lost her job and despite that she felt surprisingly free. It was what she had wanted if she was quite honest because now she could tell the Doctor. She had been wanting to tell him ever since she had arrived here, but never thought it was really relevant. She would never sell his secrets to anyone anyway – so why worry him, but now that she was not working for the magazine anymore it would be even easier. But first of all Clara needed to take care of him and his hurting back. She called for Arco and started to head back to the house, but when she arrived there she spotted an unfamiliar car in the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments :)


	16. Chapter 16

When Clara stepped inside, she found the spot the Doctor had previously occupied empty. Looking around the room she saw him sitting rigidly in one of the beanbags – next to Missy. Neither of them said a single word.  
“Oh,” Clara spluttered as she dropped the dog's leash on the table next to the door. Arco went off have a sniff at Missy, “Hi.”  
Both the Doctor and Missy remained completely silent, and staring at her. Clara felt a knot tighten in her stomach. This was what she had been dreading. Missy had found out about the two of them and she was not amused and the Doctor seemed to be in too much pain to do anything.  
“Doctor, you really shouldn't be sitting in those things. Your back-”  
While Clara spoke the Doctor rose from his sitting position as best as his condition allowed. He looked grim as if the pain was unbearable to him. She had been expecting him to approach her, or say something, but instead he made his way out of the living room and shortly after Clara could hear the door to the guest bedroom slam shut. She flinched.

“He knows about your scheme,” Missy said coldly, “I told him everything.”  
Clara turned around. Missy had also risen out of her seat and she looked utterly pleased with herself.  
“What have you told him?” Clara found herself asking, her voice suddenly panic-stricken. Oh God, what had she told him?  
“The truth of course,” she said simply, “After I saw the pictures of you and the Doctor in the newspapers, which, by the way, was a brilliant way to find out the two of you have been getting homely, I did a little research. And I've found a sweet little concert review you wrote about him. You are a journalist and you were trying to find out details about his private life. I've warned him, multiple times, but you know men when they see a pretty face.”

Clara was tired of listening to her. She made her way past Missy and ran straight towards the door of the guest bedroom. She knocked a couple of times, but there was no answer.  
“Doctor?” she called him through the door, “Doctor? Can I come in, please?”  
No reply.  
“Please, I need to talk to you.”  
“Go away!” he shouted from inside the room.  
Clara's heart sank. She could explain everything, all of it, but she needed to make him listen to her. 

“He doesn't want to talk to you. You might as well pack your bags now,” Missy had suddenly appeared next to her again, looking smug.  
“You have no idea what you've done,” Clara said angrily, her voice turning into a shout, “You don't even know half of it. How dare you make assumptions about me and telling him when you know he's not good at trusting people!”  
“Oh, because suddenly _you_ are an expert on his feelings, yes? I have known him for quite a while longer, dear, and I've seen the likes of you come and go.”  
“Yes, and I am now very certain you helped them as much as you helped me and you were happy to pick up the pieces afterwards!”

Suddenly the door behind them burst open and the Doctor was standing in the doorway, looking angry and tormented.  
“Will the two of you shut up!” he yelled at both of them.  
“I was just asking Clara to leave,” Missy said apologetically.  
“OUT!” the Doctor shouted at Missy and pointed at the door. He flinched at the sudden movement, but ignored the pain in his rage.  
“What?”  
“I swear to God, Missy,” he panted. Clara could hardly bear to see him like this. He was in so much pain and he was angry at her and she couldn't even help him, “If you don't leave right now you will have to find yourself another musician to represent.”  
“Doctor, you don't know-”  
“OUT! NOW!” he shouted again and closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall.

Missy obviously knew she had been defeated. She threw another glance from the Doctor to Clara and a few seconds later she was out of the front door. Clara almost sighed in relief when she was gone.  
“Doctor, you need to lie down,” she told him calmly, “I hate to see you in such pain.”  
“Is it true?” he asked her, disregarding her concern, “Did you write that article?”  
Clara took a deep breath. “Doctor, what she told you isn't true. I never meant t-”  
“So you didn't write that article?”  
She paused.  
“I d-did. I wrote it. But I swear, I never-”  
The Doctor interrupted her again. “I trusted you, Clara, and you betrayed that trust. I really thought you were different. I thought you and I. I. . .,” his voice suddenly altered, “I can't believe I've BEEN SO STUPID. . . AGAIN!”  
Before Clara could react he had turned around and slammed his flat hand against the wall.  
“DOCTOR!” she cried out, her first instinct to tend to the injured hand he was now holding, to see if he was alright, but the Doctor backed away from her.  
“Get out of my sight, Clara. Get out of this house!”  
“Please, just listen to me. I can explain everything!” Clara could feel her voice getting thinner as she spoke and pleaded with him, but she was fighting back her tears as best as she could.  
“I TRUSTED YOU! I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING ABOUT ME, EVERY LITTLE THING BUT MY NAME. I THOUGHT YOU REALLY CARED ABOUT ME. I THOUGHT THAT AFTER ALL THIS TIME I HAD FINALLY FOUND SOMEONE WHO IS HONEST AND LOVING AND BEAUTIFUL AND WHO ACTUALLY WANTS TO BE WITH ME. BUT YOU CAN'T, CAN YOU? YOU'RE A JOURNALIST AND YOU JUST WANTED A STORY! YOU LIED TO ME, CLARA, YOU LIED ALTHOUGH YOU KNEW WHAT I HAD BEEN THROUGH!”  
Clara couldn't even find the words to fight back.  
“You could have at least had the decency to tell me.”  
“I wanted to,” Clara replied weakly, “I really wanted to tell you. I. . . I just never thought it was the right moment.”  
The Doctor scoffed. “That actually makes it worse. There is no humanity left in people like you. All you care about is the next headline, what happens to people is nothing to you. Nothing at all.”  
“I NEVER EVEN THOUGHT ABOUT BETRAYING YOUR TRUST!” Clara finally yelled back at him. The tears she had been fighting started to gather up in her eyes.  
“AND HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE A SINGLE WORD THAT COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH NOW?”  
“Because of us,” she sobbed, “Because of what we had. Do you really think that all of that was a lie? That it meant nothing at all to me?”  
“I honestly don't know what to believe, Clara,” he paused to take a couple of shallow breaths. The pain in his back seemed to get worse, “I thought I could do love. I thought I could do this relationship thing. I was wrong. I was so stupid. People cannot be trusted.”  
She put her arms akimbo. “Is that what you think, Doctor? Is that really what you think?”  
“Thanks to you, Clara. Thanks for a lesson well taught,” he said coldly.

Clara needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Yes, she should have told him about being a journalist, but right now she didn't think it would have made any difference at all. The Doctor would never have trusted her anyway. He would never trust her again and that hurt her deeply. All these past disappointments had made him so wary, so suspicious that he would never be able to truly be with someone, no matter how hard he tried. And suddenly Clara grew mad at him for even trying. To think that she had been with him the entire time, to assume she never even cared about him in the slightest, to accuse her of being heartless was the worst part of it all. And it made her angry, no, it made her furious. The Doctor must have seen this coming, and he had still decided to go ahead and break both their hearts in the process.  
“Clara, please, leave,” he swallowed and closed his eyes again, “I will call you a taxi.”  
Without even thinking about it Clara slapped him hard in the face. She hadn't meant to hurt him further, but she was so mad.  
“You're an idiot!” Clara said angrily and turned around, heading towards the bedroom.

 

Twenty minutes later Clara had packed all of her things into her suitcase. She had dried her tears and was finally ready to go back downstairs.  
She found the Doctor sitting in one of the beanbags again in a very uncomfortable looking position, but she was done worrying about him. He didn't want her help anymore, he didn't want _her_ anymore, so he would have to deal with this on his own.  
“I'm leaving,” she announced, her voice betraying no emotion.  
“Have a nice life,” he growled in reply, not even throwing another glance at her.

Clara slammed the door shut behind her as she headed out and took a deep breath. No, she couldn't think about her feelings right now or she would most certainly start to cry again. She needed to get that cab, go to the train station and go home. She could deal with her emotions later.  
“Clara? Is everything alright?” she suddenly heard Ralph's voice, “Car broke down when we were on the way, so we came back. What happened? Why do you have your suitcase?”  
Clara looked him in the eye. He seemed worried. “Ask the Doctor. I don't wanna talk about it.”  
“But-”  
“Ralph, can you promise me one thing?” she asked him.  
“What thing?” he seemed genuinely confused.  
A knot was forming in Clara's throat and she could feel the tears coming back. She had to make it quick. “Take care of him, will you? Promise me you'll take care of him.”  
“I. . . will, but Clara-”  
Clara didn't hear him out. Instead she turned her face away to hide her tears and started walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, guys :) And also hope you won't hit me now. But hey, they story continues, right?


	17. Chapter 17

When Clara arrived at the train station in Glasgow she had two options: go home to London, cry her eyes out for a few days and pretend nothing had ever happened. Or take the train to Blackpool. A part of her wanted to be alone, yet some other part screamed for the loving embrace of her grandmother, for her comforting words shared over a glass of wine, followed by some badmouthing of the _stupid boy_ , like they had done so many times since Clara had started to take an interest in love. Yes, that was what she would do. She bought her ticket and half an hour later she sat down in her seat and headed south.

No matter how hard she tried to avoid it, Clara kept replaying the fight in her head throughout the entire ride. She had behaved terribly, even slapped the Doctor although he had already been in such pain. Was he alright now? Were Ralph and Cynthia taking care of him? He could hardly move around this morning. Someone really should help him out. Clara should have been honest with him from the moment they met. She should have told him she was at the concert to write a review. She should have showed him what she had written. The Doctor would have understood.

No, he absolutely wouldn't have and she had had every right to slap him. That man was emotionally crippled, not even able to form a trusting bond with anyone if such a small thing could break them apart. The Doctor hadn't even heard her out. They had been heading in a serious direction, he had made that much clear, so the least he could have done was to hear her out, no matter what his past. But he had accused her of having betrayed him from the start to the point where he thought all of their happy moments together had been nothing but an act. Clara could never forgive that. She had lied about a tiny part of life, but she certainly didn't deserve to hear the things he had thrown at her. No matter how charming he had been the weeks before, no matter what he accused her of – Clara didn't deserve that.

When Clara changed trains at the station, her connecting train was delayed and that was when she suddenly realized how hungry she was. The thought of eating made her stomach turn, but not eating was just going to end in a very nasty headache. Clara was immediately presented with two choices: a small, cheap looking snack bar or McDonald's. Her first instinct was to enter the fast food restaurant when her memories came back to her. How they had argued about it, it almost made her laugh even now. He had wanted to take her somewhere nice instead – he never had. It would probably take a while before she could eat a burger again without being haunted by her memories. The Doctor had screwed up even that, so she entered the snack bar instead.

With a rather oddly tasting portion of fish & chips Clara sat down on one of the empty benches on the platform, but she wasn't alone for long. While she was chewing her chips without appetite a small, black cat started to approach her, meowing at her at a terrible volume. The cat looked young, not yet full-grown and very, very thin. Clara sighed.  
“Are you hungry?” Clara asked the kitty. It meowed in response.  
She took some of the fish, ripped it into little pieces, but before she could put it on the ground for the cat to eat, it had jumped on the bench next to her.  
“Aw, you're a trusting fellow, aren't you? Not many of those around, I can tell you,” Clara placed the fish in front of the cat who ate it hungrily.  
“You don't belong to anyone, huh? At least you don't look it. Oh God, I'm talking to a cat. I will end up a crazy cat lady. All thanks to the Doctor.”  
When it had finished the fish, the cat climbed into Clara's lap, nuzzling its head against her belly and purring loudly. Clara began to stroke its fur and she realized that it felt oddly comforting.  
Her train arrived half an hour later and when Clara got up to board it, she noticed that the cat trailed after her.  
“You can't come on the train, kitty. It's still 40 minutes til I get home,” Clara explained. The cat just stared at her.  
Clara thought about it for a second, then she quickly opened her suitcase and emptied her handbag into it. She reached for the cat and placed it inside her bag, leaving the zipper open.  
“I swear, if you pee in there you'll be in big trouble,” she warned the cat and stepped onto the train.

 

About an hour later Clara finally arrived at her grandma's house. It was already 9 pm and she prayed to God her granny wasn't asleep already. She rang the doorbell. A short while later the door opened and Clara stared in the face of her very surprised grandmother, who was already dressed in her nightgown and bathrobe.  
“Clara?” she asked, completely baffled, “What on earth are you doing here?”

At the sight of her granny Clara immediately broke out in tears. No matter how hard she tried, there was no stopping them. She flung her arms around her grandmother and started sobbing uncontrollably, not able to speak a single word.  
“Clara, it's okay, it's okay,” her granny whispered, holding her in the embrace when suddenly the cat started meowing. “Clara, why is there a cat in your handbag?”  
Clara let go of her and looked her in the eyes. Her vision was blurred from the tears but she was still sobbing and unable to speak.  
“It's alright, come inside, honey.”

 

It took her 10 minutes, a cup of hot cocoa and several tissues until she had finally calmed down. The cat was off, exploring the living room and Clara's grandmother sat down next to her.  
“Honey,” she said, stroking Clara's hair, “Why don't you tell me what's wrong? What are you doing here? Why didn't you call? Your father said you went to Scotland two weeks ago.”  
“I was. I was gonna go back to London,” she said, tears still running over her face, but she had stopped sobbing now, “But then I thought it would be a long journey and I would be alone, so I came to you.”  
“What happened?”

And Clara told her everything. About the day she had gone to the concert, that she had been invited to the Doctor's party, that she had spent the night and the following day with him, the invitation to Scotland, how wonderful it had all been, how wonderful _he_ had been, all the things they had talked about doing, the fight and how Clara had come by a new pet at the train station.  
“Well, he's an idiot. And so are you,” Clara's grandmother said strictly when she had finished, “You're both idiots.”  
“Why?” Clara asked weakly.  
“You should have told him. And he shouldn't have said what he said.”  
“I know that,” she said, blowing her nose in another tissue, “But what do I do now?”  
Her grandmother sighed. “Ah, sweet, little Clara. I don't know. First of all you should get rid of that ridiculous Scottish accent.”  
“The what?”  
“You've been in Scotland for two weeks and you already sound Scottish. What's up with that, huh?”  
Clara laughed weakly. “Sorry. I'll try. But what do I do about him?”  
“Do you love him?” her granny asked her.  
Clara nodded and reached for another tissue. The cat jumped onto the sofa and curled up next to her, purring again.  
“First of all you need to calm down. Clear your head. Trust me, in a couple of days it will all make a little more sense. Then you can either decide to call him or forget him.”  
“Thank you,” Clara sniffed and bent forward to embrace her granny, “Can I have your guest bedroom for a while? I don't feel like going back to London just yet.”  
“Of course you can, Clara. You can stay for as long as you like.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments :) And yes, you are all absolutely right. They had it coming.


	18. Chapter 18

Clara woke up the next day, her head throbbing and her throat feeling sore. She had cried herself to sleep and now she was feeling nothing but emptiness. The Doctor seemed like a dream that she was only slowly starting to remember, a dream so far away it almost didn't feel real anymore. There was however a black, purring reminder lying next to her in bed that told her everything had really happened and suddenly Clara realized what she had done.  
She had adopted a cat. She had taken it home with her and now she would have to take care of it. She needed to find a pet store and buy food and bowls, a litter box, transport box, toys. . . Clara should probably take the cat to a vet as well. It looked healthy. Thin, but healthy, and yet it needed vaccinations and all of that. It also needed a name.  
Because Clara didn't think that anyone went through the trouble of neutering a stray cat, she assumed it was female. What was a good female cat name?  
She outstretched her hand, carefully scratching the cat's head. “What's your name? Mh? You look as sweet as candy. . . Candy?” The cat didn't react. “Mhhhh. . . Cookie?”  
She meowed softly and Clara smiled.  
“Alright, Cookie it is then. Better get out of bed now, we've got some things to do, you and I.”

Her grandmother greeted her at the kitchen table with the breakfast she had prepared and Clara forced herself to eat at least a little, although her appetite still hadn't returned.  
“So, what are you gonna do?” her granny asked her.  
Clara sighed. “I haven't really made up my mind about anything yet. I know I should go out and find a new job, but I don't even know what to look for. As for the Doctor. . .”  
“Clara,” her granny chuckled, “I was asking what you are gonna do _today_ , not in the next 50 years of your life.”  
“Oh,” she was relieved, “Well, I need to buy cat supplies and take Cookie to the vet.”  
“Cookie?” her grandmother raised an eyebrow.  
“I named her Cookie,” Clara explained as she fed the cat a few ham stripes.  
“About the next 50 years though,” her grandmother started, “You know that this is a big house with a nice second bedroom. And if you decided to move back to Blackpool, you could stay here for as long as you like. You would save yourself the rent.”  
Clara looked up at her granny. Move back to Blackpool. She hadn't really considered it so far, but she had considered moving to Scotland for the Doctor, so it wouldn't necessarily have to be London forever. She quite liked the idea of being close to family again and finding a job here and should the house turn out to be too small for two people after all, she could always find herself a cosy, little flat. It was definitely an option for a fresh start.  
“That actually sounds like a good idea,” she said, “Yeah, I think I will do just that.”

Pushing the memory of the Doctor aside, Clara got dressed and threw the rest of her clothes into the washing machine. She made her way into town and came back with enough supplies for three cats. She had bought enough food and treats for the next few weeks, a cat bed, transport box, two litter boxes, food and water bowls, and a number of toys that Cookie accepted immediately. With the help of several of them Clara managed to coax the cat inside the transport box and she headed off to the vet.  
As is turned out Cookie was absolutely healthy and definitely female, if a little underfed. She got vaccinated and Clara was given deworming pills to mix with the cat food just in case. 

On her way back home Clara passed a radio station and she caught a glimpse of a signboard. The station had a vacancy, looking for someone to phrase the news and announcements for the presenters. Clara stopped to read it. She could do that. She had a degree in English and she had worked for a newspaper before, this couldn't be so different from that and it was probably also better paid. She retrieved the phone from her pocket to take a picture of the mailing address for applications when her lock screen, a picture of herself and the Doctor, taken while they had been to Glasgow, stared back at her.  
She wondered what he was doing right now, how he was dealing with it, if his back was any better. Clara knew that she shouldn't think about him, but she couldn't help feeling slightly nauseous at the thought of him, she couldn't shake the bad feeling that she shouldn't have left him in such a state.  
_He kicked you out_ , she told herself, _he doesn't want you anymore_.  
Clara quickly snapped the picture and let the phone slide back into her pocket. She vowed the change her lock screen as soon as she got home. 

 

* * *

 

There was a knock on the front door and the Doctor growled.  
“Go away!”  
Yet still Cynthia walked in. Ralph had tried it earlier and he had sent him away, but he was afraid his wife wasn't so easy to shake off.  
“What part of _go away_ did you not understand?” the Doctor asked calmly and looked up, smiling weakly at her.  
“We were worried,” Cynthia said and stepped closer, “Are you absolutely sure about what happened? I just can't imagine-”  
“She admitted it,” the Doctor broke her off. He didn't want to go over it again. He didn't even want to think about it. In fact, he would love to cut out the part of his brain that held the memory of Clara altogether, “And I don't want to talk about it anymore, I told you that. Now, are Ralph and I still on for tonight?”  
“I don't think that's a good idea. Your back-”  
“My back is fine. Look,” the Doctor rose from the beanbag, moving around the living room. It wasn't fine, not yet, not entirely, but it would be. He just needed to get out of this place where every little thing reminded him of Clara, “You can stop worrying and you can stop talking about her. I made a mistake, won't repeat it.”  
“I think the mistake was kicking Clara out, not letting her in,” Cynthia shrugged, looking boldly at him.  
The Doctor took another step closer and when he yelled at her his voice was as sharp as a knife. “I told you before. She lied to me, she betrayed me, she never cared about me in the first place. Do you suggest I should ignore that just because I love her? No, not again. I can't ever do that again. She was a mistake.”  
The Doctor turned away from her and let himself fall back into a sitting position.  
“Tell Ralph he can pick me up at 8.”  
“Can't you at least admit that you miss her?” Cynthia asked, “You know, talking about your feelings might actually do you good. You tend to. . .”  
The Doctor glared at her.  
“You tend to keep things that bother you bottled up inside you. That's not healthy.”  
“I thought I told you to _GO AWAY_!”

Finally Cynthia got the drift and retreated, leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts of Clara that he hated so much, but there wasn't really anything else left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments :)


	19. Chapter 19

Taking a deep breath, Clara stepped inside the radio station, feeling absolutely confident. She had gone back to London a few weeks ago, packed up her things and moved in with her grandmother. She had written several applications, and it was the radio station she had spotted at first that had invited her. She was about to enter her first job interview, wearing her best suit and carrying her resume in a neat folder under her arm. Clara felt immensely proud of herself. Not only was she starting to build herself a new life, but she was also slowly leaving the old one behind. Or at least that's what she told herself. She couldn't cry about the Doctor forever, especially since they had only been together for such a short time. No matter how intense it was, it would soon be forgotten. And getting this job was a big part of stepping forward.

“You must be Clara Oswald, right?” the man leading the interview extended his hand, “I'm Dave. Come in and have a seat.”  
Clara smiled at the friendly, young man, shook his hand, and sat down at the small table.  
“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”  
“Water would be nice, thanks,” she replied in a friendly tone and laid down her resume in front of her. She was a little nervous now that the interview was about to start because it was the only job on the list that she really wanted.  
“So, Clara,” Dave said with a smile, “I can call you Clara, right? We only really do first names here. It's a very familiar atmosphere around here.”  
“That sounds nice,” she said and took a sip from the water glass.  
“What made you apply for this position, Clara?” Dave asked her as he took his seat and Clara gulped. He was really jumping right into the interview without actually giving her time to settle in.  
“Well, I, uhm, I walked past the vacancy sign on the door. I had just lost my job the day before and it sounded like something I would really enjoy doing,” she explained.  
“You were fired from your last job?” Clara nodded, “May I ask why?”  
“Personal differences with the boss,” Clara said simply. She really didn't want to go into detail, lest he found out about her previous relationship with the Doctor.  
“Okay, but you've worked for the magazine for quite a while. Did you enjoy writing what you wrote for them?”  
“Absolutely. When I majored in English I always thought I was going to do something like that and I love music, so writing CD reviews was a good start.”  
“Well, with a love of music you are absolutely right here. Would you mind giving me a sample?” Dave asked her.  
“A sample of what?”  
“I have today's news here. These have already been re-written for the station and broadcast, but I'd like you to just take a stab at it If you don't mind,” he placed a few sheets of paper in front of her, “You can take your time. Rewrite them in a few short sentences so it could be broadcast in under 5 minutes. Can you do that?”  
Clara took a look at the first page which seemed to be the current unemployment rates released by the government.  
“Sure, I can do that,” Clara said and took the pen Dave was holding out for her.  
“Remember, it doesn't have to be perfect. We can work on your style later. This is just supposed to be a small test. Don't worry about it too much, just try. I'll leave you so you can concentrate.”  
“Okay,” she nodded and when Dave had left the room she exhaled sharply. Just a small test, nothing to worry about. She could do this. She was good at this.

The first part of the news went very well. She managed to cut down the already short articles to the essential minimum and she thought she had done very well. However when Clara flipped to the last page her heart skipped a beat as she read the headline and she could feel herself sink back into that deep hole she had almost managed to crawl out of these last couple of weeks.

 _The Doctor (57) appears to be getting too old for his rock & roll lifestyle. After he had been spotted out and about in Glasgow with the same woman several times in a row, we had started to assume the rock star had finally settled down to a quieter life. The years of excess are apparently taking a toll on him as he was spotted being carried out of a night club by his bodyguards. The spontaneous concert he was supposed to give at the_ Barrowland Ballroom _the following day ended in a disaster when the Doctor failed to show up on stage again after a scheduled 15 minute break. Reasons for his absence for the second half of the concert are so far unknown and his manager was unavailable for comment. The Doctor, whose real name is still unknown, is famous for his dissipated lifestyle._

“You pretentious, lying dick,” Clara found herself muttering as she had finished reading the article. The Doctor had told her he was tired of playing the rock star, that he wanted to get out of that kind of show and now this.  
She was so angry that her mind was racing with all manner of curse words Clara would just love to throw at him right now. The Doctor had kicked her out because she had lied to him about her job when his entire life was nothing but a big, fat lie itself. He didn't even have the guts to stand up to Missy and tell her he was tired of playing games for publicity. 

A knock on the door interrupted her internal tantrum and Dave walked back inside.  
“How's it coming along?” he asked carefully.  
“Uhm,” Clara took a deep breath, “Almost done. Just read the last one.”  
“Oh, you can leave it. If you did the others that should be enough.”  
“Thanks,” Clara sighed in relief and handed her handwritten notes over to Dave. 

He took a moment to read them carefully, his face not betraying the slightest emotion, but Clara felt so irritated after reading the article about the Doctor that she suddenly found herself not really caring anymore what Dave might think about her work.  
“This sounds really good, Clara. Really, really good,” he said with a smile after a few moments had passed, “I like it.”  
“Really?” Clara asked in surprise.  
“Yes, absolutely,” Dave reassured her, “If you want to, we can set up a contract.”  
“Does this mean I've got the job?”  
“If you want it, yes. I'd love to have you on our team. I can see this really working out,” Dave said honestly, smiling at her.  
Clara smiled back. “That's wonderful.”  
“Okay, let's go over the details then. Pay, holiday, etc.”

Clara nodded, the smile still on her face. Yes, this was the beginning of a whole new era and no memory of the Doctor would be able to rob of her that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so so much for your comments. Aren't the Doctor and Clara just infuriating? :D


	20. Chapter 20

The Doctor woke up and groaned. His head was aching and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. Turning around in bed, his hand reached for the other, empty side and he didn't even need to open his eyes to realize that everything had been a dream.  
Clara.  
The Doctor had dreamed about Clara again, as he did almost every time he went to sleep. He couldn't even tell how long it had been or what day it was, but none of that even mattered. Clara still wasn't there.  
He missed her so much. He missed the sound of her laughter. The smell of her as she was lying in bed next to him. Missed her gentle touch and how her hair felt when he ran his fingers through it. If the Doctor hadn't lacked the energy to do it, he would have screamed or torn his pillow apart in his inner rage. He missed her and it never stopped. It just never stopped.  
The Doctor wanted to call her, beg her to come back, but every time he picked up the phone he reminded himself of her betrayal. Some days he felt so lonely that it almost didn't matter anymore. If only he could forget her.

The phone next to his bed rang, the sound sending a jolt of pain through his temples. He tried ignoring it at first, but when the ringing didn't cease the Doctor reached for it and answered.  
“What?” he growled.  
“Where are you?” Cynthia's voice sounded sharp in his ears.  
“ _What?_ ” the Doctor repeated, he was confused now.  
“You said you'd come over for lunch. Well, we've been waiting for half an hour, so where are you?”  
“That was Christmas,” he replied sleepily, “I wanted to come over for Christmas.”  
“It _is_ Christmas,” Cynthia reminded him harshly.

He paused. Could it really be Christmas already? How could he have missed that? But then again, it didn't really matter at all what day it was.  
“I'm not hungry.”  
He could hear Cynthia inhale sharply and he knew he might as well get out of bed now because she wouldn't take no for an answer.  
“Listen to me, Doctor,” she said angrily, “I am starting to get really tired of this. Pull yourself together at least for one day! Put on some clothes-”  
“I'm wearing clothes,” the Doctor interrupted her wearily.  
“Take a shower!” Cynthia continued, “If you're not here in half an hour we're bringing lunch over to your place and if you're not ready, I am calling Clara.”  
The Doctor sat up straight. Too fast. The room was spinning. God, he felt nauseous.  
“Don't you dare!” he wanted to yell, but his voice wouldn't allow it, “And don't ever mention that name again!”  
“It depends on you, Doctor,” Cynthia said before she hung up.

The Doctor let himself fall back into the pillows with a loud, annoyed groan. It was Christmas. He wondered what Clara was up to today. She would probably be with her family, happy, celebrating. He began to imagine what it would have been like to have her here for Christmas. They could have decorated the tree together, sat by the fireplace, exchanged Christmas gifts. He would have gotten her something beautiful, like one of the necklaces they sold in a shop in Glasgow, the one with the dandelion seeds embedded in a small glass sphere. Clara had admired that one when they had been walking through Glasgow, but she had refused his offer to buy it for her.  
He loved her. He had loved her right from the start and he had never told her. The Doctor had wanted to, that evening, that wonderful evening by the fireplace, but something had held him back. He now wished that he had said it.  
Did she at least feel remorse over playing with his heart like she had? A part of him wanted to go through the newspapers, find out how many of his secrets she had made public, but the last piece of his sanity kept him from it. The Doctor wondered how much they had paid her and the anger rose up inside him again. It lasted only seconds before he realized how much of a fool she had made of him and his anger turned back into sadness. He had been lonely for too long and fallen for the cheapest of tricks.  
He shouldn't have let her have such an impact on him, but it was too late for that now. The damage was already done and he just lacked the strength. If only there was a way to erase her from his memory. Any way.

* * *

Cookie was playing on the floor, completely wrapped in tinsel and Clara laughed faintly and quickly took out her phone to snap a picture.  
“This is the last box,” her grandmother announced as she entered the living room with another box of Christmas ornaments and set it down on the coffee table.  
“Good, we're almost done then,” Clara said and bent down to pick up a couple of straw angels.  
“You know, I really like your new haircut,” her granny said, but there was something in her voice that made Clara wary.  
She stopped and looked at her grandmother.  
“I know that look,” Clara said warily, “What's that look for? What's wrong?”  
“Nothing,” she replied but it sounded like the exact opposite. Clara put her arms akimbo, “I don't want to start this conversation, Clara, I know you don't want to have it.”  
“Now we're definitely going to have this conversation and somehow I doubt it's about my shorter hair.”

Her grandmother sighed. “You don't seem happy.”

Clara groaned and turned around to finish decorating the Christmas tree. Her grandmother had been right. She really didn't want to have this conversation, so she busied herself with the ornaments.  
“Well, I am,” Clara said brusquely, “No need to worry.”  
“You say you're happy,” Clara's grandmother said, approaching her so that Clara at least saw her out of the corner of her eye, “But when you think I'm not looking you seem absolutely miserable. You look angry most of the time.”  
“I like my new job. I like living with you. I have Cookie. Why do you think I'm unhappy?”  
Her granny opened her mouth.  
“No, wait,” Clara interrupted her angrily, “Don't say it.”  
“That is exactly what I mean. You still miss him. You try so hard not to think about him and when you catch yourself failing at that you get angry.”  
Clara raised her voice. She couldn't believe her grandmother had brought this up at Christmas, her favourite holiday, the one she had already not been looking forward to so much this year. “That's because he makes me angry. And I think I have everything right to be after what he accused me of. But I've moved on, don't you see that? I'm over him.”  
“Clara,” her granny sighed, “That is exactly the point. You cannot at the same time be still mad at him and over him. You are very good at _pretending_ to be over him, getting a new job, a new haircut, moving to a new city, getting a cat – all of that to cover up that you still have feelings for him. Don't tell me he's not on your mind every step of the way.”

Her grandmother was right. The Doctor was on her mind constantly, no matter how hard she tried to push him out. The thought of him followed her everywhere. Even today, on Christmas Day, she couldn't help but wonder what he might be up to. But she would be damned to admit that.  
“You know what you should do?” her granny said, “You should call him. Talk about what happened. For all you know he could be just as miserable as you are.”  
Clara smashed one of the ornaments on the ground, shattering it into a hundred pieces, and started yelling. “ _He_ is not miserable. _He_ is off doing what he's always done, lying, leading his fake rock  & roll lifestyle, being a coward and blowing off concerts for fun because he doesn't have the balls to stand up to his manager, who he is probably shagging at this very second.”  
Clara took a series of deep breaths, then came to the only conclusion that seemed reasonable to her.  
“You know what I should do? I should start dating again.”  
And with that she stormed out of the room, grabbed her coat and ran outside to get some fresh air and to be far, far away from her grandmother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments :))) I was asked how many chapters this fic will have and I can't say it exactly, because my thorough planning ends at chapter 25 at the moment and the rest still needs adding details to the main storyline. If I had to guess I'd say 30 chapters, but I could be wrong. After all, it was supposed to have 5-6 chapters when I started writing it (and I was soooooo wrong).


	21. Chapter 21

Clara had known that online dating wouldn't be easy. She had expected to go on a date with a guy or two with whom she wouldn't hit it off immediately, but she had never thought it would be this hard.  
Her very first attempt had been a guy who had talked about nothing but sports. He had asked her a couple of questions, but Clara didn't think he had listened to her for long enough to actually register her response before he had started talking about football again. Clara's second date had been a truly lovely 40-year old who had immediately pulled out his wallet to show her pictures of his four children. By the end of the meal Clara had learned everything about them, and also his ex-wife with whom he was obviously still in love. The third guy had stood her up and never even apologized for it. 

After him Clara had decided to take a break from online dating and instead went out on the hunt herself. While getting the last vaccinations for Cookie she had asked her not too bad looking and very friendly vet out on a date, who had been flattered, but uninterested – because he was already in a long term relationship with another man.  
Frustrated at her failure to find someone Clara had once again logged into the online dating database and spotted something she liked. He had hardly made anything about himself public except for a few of his interests and favourite books, which was what had caught her attention. So she had written him and now she was heading to the restaurant to meet the man himself.

When she arrived at the restaurant Clara could already see him sitting at the table and peeling the label off a wine bottle. She was 10 minutes late.  
“I'm so sorry,” Clara apologized when she had finally reached the table and extended her hand, “I know, I know, being late to a date makes a terrible first impression, but the bus was late and I walked to a different station and, ah, anyway, I am here now. Here and sorry.”  
Ronald – that was his name – shook her hand reluctantly, but he looked slightly scared.  
“You're mad, aren't you?” Clara asked contritely as she sat down at the other side of the table, “Please say you're not mad. It really wasn't my fault at all. I left home in time. I swear, I'm gonna make it up to you.”  
“No, it's. . . it's fine,” he replied in a low voice and his eyes wandered back to the peeled off label.

An awkward silence spread over the table and Clara was glad when the waiter arrived to take their order. She had been to this restaurant once before and knew what she wanted, but Ronald seemed a little indecisive. Finally he ordered what Clara was having as well and the waiter left their table.  
The silence however stayed.  
Finally Clara opened her mouth. “I'm sorry, does something bother you?” she asked.  
“No, it's fine, really. I don't talk much,” he replied.  
“ _Not much_ is quite the exaggeration.”  
Finally Ronald looked at her. He was cute, but now Clara could see that he was also extremely shy.  
“I'm not really used to women making the first move,” he explained, “It all happened so fast, I mean, we only started talking online three days ago.”  
“So you're saying you would have preferred waiting?” Clara raised an eyebrow. This was definitely going to be a new one and somehow she couldn't really see this working out. He looked dead scared of her.  
Ronald hesitated.  
“No, I think,” he paused, “I think you are a little too much for me.”  
“ _What?_ ” she said louder than she had intended.  
Slowly Ronald rose from his chair and grabbed his coat. “I'm sorry, I really am.”  
“What do you mean I am too much for you?” she asked angrily.  
Ronald looked utterly uncomfortable. “You. . . talk.”  
Clara stared at him in confusion, but before she could say anything else he had thrown a bill on the table and dashed out.  
She didn't know whether to be mad or burst into laughter. Of all the guys she had met through online dating she swore it couldn't get weirder than this. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea, maybe she should just do it the old fashioned way and wait for the right person to come along. But then her mind wandered back to the Doctor. Even after 3 months he still hadn't vanished from her memories and Clara couldn't take the fact that he still lingered on her mind. She had to find someone new, and she had to find him as soon as possible to finally get over the Doctor and Clara wouldn't give up until she had.

 

* * *

 

“ _Where the hell have you been?_ ” the Doctor could hear Missy shout from the distance and he groaned.  
“Take me back, please,” he said to Ralph, who held him up because his feet had given way under him. Not his fault, he had told his friend, the earth was moving too fast. For some reason Ralph hadn't bought that.  
“Oh no,” Ralph replied, “That's your problem. Not mine.” 

Finally they had reached the front door of his house where Missy was already waiting for them.  
“What in God's name do you think you're doing?” Missy gave him a smack over the head, “You've got a concert tomorrow!”  
“Ouch!” he stumbled away from Ralph, holding the spot where she had hurt him, “Why's everyone mad at me?”  
Now Missy turned her anger towards his friend. “What is wrong with you? Why did you let this happen?”  
“This is _not_ my fault!” Ralph replied angrily, “I was already in bed when he called me to pick him up. I had no idea! I'm the bodyguard, not the babysitter.”  
The Doctor let himself fall back against the wall. “I'd like to point out that I am not a baby.”  
“Fine,” Ralph spat, he was really furious now, “I'm done with this. I'm done picking up your drunk ass from parties. I'm done trying to tell you to eat and sleep and get dressed. You say you're not a baby, well, then start behaving like the adult you are and get yourself under control!”  
The Doctor only stared back at him. He had no idea what to say to him, no idea why Ralph couldn't see that it wasn't so easy.  
“I'll take care of him,” Missy finally said, “Go home, Ralph. Just make sure he wakes up in time for the concert tomorrow.”

Ralph nodded and turned around, walking away without saying another word. The Doctor had no idea how Missy managed to shuffle him inside, but a few moments later he found himself sinking back into one of the beanbags. He tried closing his eyes, but the room was spinning. The pills he had taken at the party wouldn't let him sleep anyway. There was no point trying. When was the last time he had slept? He couldn't sleep. He would only dream of Clara and that was the worst form of torture.  
“Doctor, it's time you snapped out of this,” Missy said harshly, “Everyone's allowed a relapse, but this has got to stop now. We've done it before, we can do it again.”  
“Just leave me alone, Missy. I don't need your help,” he said wearily.  
“It's that woman, isn't it? The journalist,” she said, “It's been three months. I doubt she even remembers you.”  
“Thaaaanks,” he drawled, “You always know _exactly_ how to make me feel better.”

Missy walked around the room and settled behind him, her hands sliding over his shoulders and massaging them gently. “You know I'm not your friend. I'm not here to pamper you. I'm your manager and as such I care about you. I want to help you.”  
“This is helping me,” the Doctor insisted, “I can't stand this pain. I just want to cut it out. Forget her.”  
“There are better ways to get over her. _Healthier_ ways,” Missy whispered into his ear as she slid her hands across his chest.  
“What are you doing?” he asked her, barely aware of her touch at all.  
“You are lonely,” she explained, walking around the beanbag to kneel down in front of him, “Let me make you feel less so.”  
The Doctor didn't understand what she was talking about until her hands had reached the zip of his trousers. He stopped her immediately.  
“I don't want that,” he said calmly.  
“Okay,” Missy replied, getting back on her feet, “Just tell me when you need me.”  
“No,” the Doctor repeated wearily, “I don't want you. I just want Clara.”  
“Well, Clara is not here,” Missy said brusquely, “And she is not coming back because, in case you have forgotten, she was a journalist who only intended to spy on you. I think it's time you realized that you're just not cut out for love. It has brought you nothing but misery.”  
He buried his face in his hands. His mind felt all wrong, all of his thoughts and memories were scrambled and he was still missing Clara. It seemed worse than ever.

“You need sleep,” Missy reminded him, “You need to sober up for the concert tomorrow.”  
“I can't,” he groaned, “I don't want to.”  
“Fine,” she finally said angrily, “Do what you want. If you fall off the stage, don't expect me to pick you up.”

The Doctor flinched when Missy slammed the door behind her. She was right, he needed to sleep, but he was scared. He didn't think he could take another dream about Clara and himself being happy together, and yet that was what he dreamed about whenever he closed his eyes. It was killing him, knowing it would never be like that again. He missed her. He missed her so much that it almost drove him to insanity. 

He bent forward to reach for the bottle of Scotch beneath the coffee table. If he blacked out he surely wouldn't dream at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you so, so much for the reviews and comments and messages and that sweet but slightly 'loud' Tumblr post :D I'm so glad you like this story and I almost feel bad for torturing you. Almost.


	22. Chapter 22

The ringing of her phone tore Clara from her sleep and her heart started pounding from the shock of the sudden noise. Sleepily she opened her eyes and stared at the alarm clock. It was not even 5 am. Who could possibly be calling?  
Fearing an emergency she reached for her phone and answered without even checking the display.  
“Yes?” she asked in a husky voice that was heavy with sleep.  
She waited, but there was no sound coming from the other end.  
“Hello?” Clara asked again, a little more determination in her voice.  
Again nothing. Fighting the brightness of her screen she looked at the caller ID. The Doctor. 

_The Doctor was calling her._

Her heart skipped a beat and Clara tried her best to suppress her feelings. He was calling her in the middle of the night when any sane person was asleep. She should be angry. And she was. He had no right, absolutely no right.

“Doctor, I can see you number,” her tone betrayed no emotion whatsoever and she felt proud of herself. 

Finally he replied. Clara could recognized his voice, but it was low, the Scottish accent even more prominent than it usually was and what he said was little more than mumbling.  
“I can't understand a word you're saying,” she felt the annoyance rise inside of her, “Speak clearly!”  
Again the other end went silent. Clara sighed heavily. If he had woken her up just to say nothing. . .  
“If there is something you have to tell me, get it out. If not I would like to go back to sleep. In case you haven't noticed, it's the middle of the night,” she said angrily.  
“I. . . er. . .,” he stammered, sighing. The phone went silent for another long while, as if he was only now starting to collect his thoughts, “The snow has melted.”  
This time Clara was able to understand him, although his speech seemed slurred, like he had only just woken up himself.  
“You're calling me to tell me that _the snow has melted_?” she asked, her disbelief obvious in her voice.  
“I was . . . thinking about you,” he admitted wearily, “You looked so beautiful. That day. Remember? You were so cold.”

Clara had half a mind to hang up immediately. After 3 months of not hearing a word from him she had every reason to. She really wasn't in the mood to reflect on the wonderful time they had had in Scotland. All she wanted to do was forget him, but something about his voice was disturbing her to the point that a knot started forming inside her stomach, so she decided to let him talk.

“Doctor,” her voice remained harsh, “I do need a few more details. Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?”  
No reply.  
Clara felt the knot in her stomach tighten and a sudden flash of worry washed over her. Was he alright? Had something happened to him?  
“Are you okay?” she asked carefully.  
“We. . . we were both cold,” he continued, still stammering. His voice sounded so familiar and yet so strange, as if it didn't belong to him at all. Weak and weary and very confused, “And. . . and. . . you and I. . . we. . . in front of the fire.”  
“Yes, yes, I remember,” Clara cut him off. She was growing more and more angry with every pointless word he spoke, “And you just wanted to remind me of the time you fucked me on your living room carpet or is there anything else you'd like to say?”  
“I, . . I didn't. . . We made _love_ ,” he stressed the last word a little too much, “I loved you so much.”

The words stung deeply. Clara didn't want to hear any more. She thought she had handled the whole break up pretty well, she had even stopped missing him. Well, almost. What she really didn't need was a reminder of their time together. She didn't care about his nostalgic flashback. He had loved her. She had known back then, but he had never said. Clara felt an odd tingling going through her body, but she quickly reminded herself again that she was angry with him for everything he had said to her. 

“I loved you, Clara. You gave me hope. . . and warmth. . . and light. . . and then you just. . . you just took it away,” the Doctor started to laugh, but it sounded sad and lost. He said more, but it was so unclear that she couldn't understand it.  
“Doctor, I think we should hang up,” Clara suggested carefully. She hated the direction this conversation was taking.  
“It doesn't go away, Clara. I. . . it's just always there. No matter what I do. I can't make it go away. I've tried. . . _everything_. There's just you. Just Clara. Clara, Clara, Clara. . .”  
He laughed more.  
“Every thought. Clara. . . Tried everything. _Every fucking thing_. You did this to me,” he dragged the words out, sniffing and still laughing this insane, devastated laugh, “You were so good. I believed it. I believed it cause I needed you. I needed you. . . and I, I didn't even know I did. . . I. . . so stupid. I just can't. . . How was I ever. . . you were so beautiful. Too perfect and I loved you. I loved you. Really did. . . My darling Clara.”

Clara sighed. He clearly wasn't okay, but his doubts were not her problem. He would just have to suck it up and deal with his own demons. After all, he was the one who had sent her away, who had kicked her out without even listening to her because he had been emotionally crippled from the start.

“My last chance, Clara, my last hope,” he babbled and he sounded angry with himself, “I _really_ believed it. . . Wanted to believe. . . Why can't you just leave my head? . . . Everything I do just makes it worse. . . There's no space in my head. . . nothing, just Clara . . . I'm begging you. . . Please, make it stop. . . just, I just want it to stop.”  
The Doctor grew silent. His last words had hardly been audible. 

“You're not making any kind of sense,” Clara said angrily. She should just hang up. If all he wanted to do was to torture her a little more, she should really just end this now. But the sound of his voice seemed to have paralysed her.  
“You deserve . . . an Oscar,” he spat, the slur in his voice getting worse with every passing second, “Tell me, Clara, were you disgusted? Secretly? . . . You must have been. . . I was so crazy about you, I _loved_ you . . . Did you think it was disgusting to sleep with me? . . . Did you fake it? All those times. . . I still remember. . . So good. You always knew. . . always knew _exactly_ what I needed. I still think about it. . . my Clara, my darling, always perfect. . . Doesn't leave my head. . . Were you disgusted? Did they _pay_ you well?”  
“Okay, that's it,” Clara finally sat up in her bed.  
“Still miss my Clara,” he murmured. 

Then she started yelling: “Listen to me, you idiot! You seduced me, you asked me to stay over night, you invited me to Scotland. You also kicked me out without even giving me the chance to explain myself. Yes, not telling you about my job was a mistake. But you made the bigger one. Now you just have to deal with it, like I had to the past couple of months! I don't know what kind of devil possessed you to call me right now, but cut it out! I lost my job because of you, you know? They wanted me to give away your secrets and I said no and they fired me. But I was doing well. I got an even better job and I was carrying on with my life for the past three months. I got a cat! I don't care that you still doubt me. I've moved on. I just need you to stay away from me so I can forget you.”

The silence on the other end of the line hurt her more than his words ever could. Clara had no idea what was wrong with him to call her like that, to say what he had just said. But she needed to know that he was okay. If it was to end here, the last thing she heard from him should at least be more than silence.  
But she did hear something. Very quiet at first, then a little more loudly. Clara started to feel slightly nauseous.  
“Doctor, are you. . . crying?” she asked hesitantly.

Then the line went dead and the peeping of the phone remained hanging in the air. Clara felt as if she was about to throw up. Something was definitely not right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments and messages :) 
> 
> Just a quick reminder: You wanted them to talk *goes into hiding*


	23. Chapter 23

The sun was shining mercilessly through the windows and instead of closing the blinds or going to sleep the Doctor had pulled his sunglasses from his pocket and put them on. He hadn't slept, not a single moment. His head was swimming, unable to focus on anything but Clara.  
He had been so stupid. He had called her and now he knew. She really didn't care about him at all. She probably never had.  
In his rage he had thrown his phone against the wall, the shattered remains still lying on the floor like a taunting reminder. At some point or another he must have broken the coffee table as well, because the glass was shattered and he didn't remember how it had happened. Probably smashed it because his hands were bleeding. He couldn't feel it.  
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered any longer.  
The Doctor hardly registered the door bell ringing and when he didn't move to open, Ralph stepped inside. He regretted ever giving him the key. He just wanted to be alone, be left in peace so he could drown what was left of his sense. Anything, anything but remembering Clara.

“I'm here to wake you for the concert, but I see you're already 'up',” Ralph announced as his eyes fell on the crouched figure leaning against the wall.  
The Doctor made a surrendering gesture.  
“Your phone is switched off. I was worried when it didn't ring.”  
“Switched off _permanently_ ,” he slurred and nodded in the direction of the broken phone and glass table.  
Ralph stepped closer, but he was so blurry, the Doctor couldn't make out the look on his face.  
“Oh God, you're still drunk,” his voice sounded defeated, but lacked surprise, “What happened here last night?”  
“I called her,” the Doctor replied, hardly able to speak at all, “Called Clara. Didn't go well.”  
“You should've slept,” Ralph said calmly.  
“No!” he replied loudly, “Can't risk it. I took something. Can't dream of Clara. Never again.”  
Ralph sighed. “Missy is gonna kill you, you know that, right?”  
“TO HELL WITH HER!” the Doctor yelled, shaking his head, “I'm done. . . I'm done.”

“Okay, I think you've had enough of this.”  
The Doctor noticed Ralph bend down and take something from him. Oh yes, the bottle. He hadn't even realized he was still holding it. Ralph was saying something and holding his hands. He hardly felt it at all.  
“The cuts aren't deep. I'm going to bandage them later, but first you need to take a shower. Preferably a cold one.”  
The Doctor shook his head. “No. Just leave me,” he mumbled.  
“Not a chance. I don't want you hurting yourself,” he said and dragged the Doctor up.  
His legs felt wobbly as if the bones had suddenly vanished from them. Or maybe they had. He couldn't say. Why couldn't Ralph just leave him alone?  
“Go take a shower. If you don't wanna sleep, at least shower. Put on some fresh clothes. I'll make some coffee in the meantime.”  
“No, I can't drink coffee,” the Doctor insisted, still slurring his voice and leaning back against the wall, “They said no stimulating and addicting substances.”  
“Well, glad you remembered that, but same goes for probably everything that's currently in your bloodstream, now take a shower or I'm nominating you for the ice bucket challenge right here, right now. Go!”  
“I'm fine,” he tried to sit back down but Ralph held him up, “Really, just leave me alone.”  
“Shower or bucket of ice water. Your choice,” his friend reminded him angrily. 

The Doctor realized that he was defeated. He simply had no energy left to resist and so he began to stagger off in the direction of the bathroom. He grabbed the first pieces of clothing he could get his hands on and realized he was holding the plaid trousers. Clara had laughed at them right before. . .  
No, Ralph was right. He needed a cold shower. Anything but thinking about Clara.  
The water burned and stung slightly on his hands and he remembered the cuts, watching the blood slowly being washed away. The ability to feel was beginning to return to his body and the Doctor wasn't sure whether he actually liked that.  
He had no idea how long he actually spent under the shower, or how long it took him to get dressed, but eventually he managed and went back downstairs, keeping a tight hold on the banister. Ralph was still in the living room. The Doctor wished he would just leave.

“. . . thank you _so_ much! See you later,” Ralph said on the phone and hung up, quickly turning to look at him, “Hey, look, I found your spare phone. Just tried it. It works.”  
The Doctor shuffled past his friend and fell back into his beanbag. He felt much better sitting than standing up. He wondered if the room would ever stop moving around him and why Clara still hadn't gone from his mind. Clara. . .  
“Here, drink this. It'll help you sober up,” Ralph said and handed him a steaming cup of coffee.  
“No, I don't think I want that.”  
“Doctor,” Ralph's voice had taken on a stricter tone, “I know you've been through this before and somehow you managed to pull yourself together. At this rate you're gonna kill yourself fast than you might think.”  
He scoffed.  
“You are not invincible. You need to learn how to deal with your feelings rather than drown them. Would you want Clara to see you like this?”  
“Clara doesn't care. No one cares,” he murmured. The Doctor took a deep breath and sighed. “I really loved her.”  
“I know that. And I think she loves you, too.”  
The Doctor tried to focus, but his mind was nothing but a blurry mess. Except for Clara's face that kept popping up, taunting him, tormenting him.  
“No,” he sniffed, “She told me she's moved on. Told me not to call her again. And I won't, but last night, I just. . . I just miss her so much. If I can't have love there's really no point in life at all.”

The door bell rang again and this time the Doctor heard it, but it was Ralph who went to open the door. A few moments later Missy stormed into the living room.  
“I'm here to pick you up for the concert. Why aren't you ready?!” she yelled at him.  
It was too much. She had hardly spoken a word and she was already too much. He wanted to be alone. He wanted peace and quiet. Why? Why did they keep bothering him?  
“Not going,” he replied wearily.  
Missy laughed. That shrill, unbearable laugh. “Nice joke. Come on, get up!”  
“I said I'm not going,” the Doctor said more loudly. He was still struggling to get the words out. He couldn't sing. Or play. Or even stand for that matter.  
“Missy,” Ralph said gently, “He can't. Just leave him.”  
“Did you suddenly become his babysitter after all? Of course he's giving the concert. I don't care what state he's in, that is his own bloody fault!”  
“Can't you see that he is seriously in trouble?!” Ralph shouted back at her. Loud. Too loud. The Doctor buried his face in his hands and then went on to cover his ears. Not enough. He could still hear them. He wanted to be alone.  
“You weren't there last time, Ralph. I've actually been through this with him and it's exactly what he needs. He has to get his ass up on stage and play!”  
“He can't play, Missy! He can't even talk! Now do something useful and leave. And for God's sake cancel the concert!”  
“Do not tell me what to do! Last time I checked I was his manager and not you!”

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP!?” the Doctor shouted, glaring at them, “Both of you. You're making my head swim.”  
“Doctor, just pull yourself together now. We can do this,” Missy told him determinedly.  
The Doctor shook his head.  
“No. I don't want this anymore,” he slurred. He tried looking at Missy, but his eyes couldn't focus, “I don't want to pretend anymore. No Doctor. No concerts. I just want to be left in peace.”  
“You're just saying that now. There really is no point talking to you when you're like this. Think about it. Without music, what have you got left?”  
The Doctor scoffed, laughing. “Nothing,” he said simply, “But I don't care. I can't do this any longer. You're fired.”  
“Excuse me?” Missy put her arms akimbo.  
He collected what was left of his strength and stood up. The floor seemed to be moving beneath him. The Doctor took a deep breath. “I said. . . you're fired. . . Now leave.”  
Missy opened her mouth a couple of times and closed it again until she had found the right words. “You're going to regret this when you've sobered up. Don't think that anyone's gonna put up with you!”  
She glared at him for a moment before she turned on her heels and left without saying another word. Somehow he doubted this would be the last he saw of her. But for now it was over. Exhausted he collapsed back in his seat. He needed sleep. He needed Clara.  
“Ralph,” he said slowly, “I think. . . I think I'll have the coffee now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I know the last chapter (22) was a good one because I basically started writing it when I started the story and kept re-writing it until it was perfectly evil but your response still amazes me. Thank you so, so, so much. I am so happy to see that you all loved/hated it, but let's get on with the story now, right?


	24. Chapter 24

Clara found it impossible to go back to sleep after the Doctor's call. No matter how hard she tried, she just kept tossing and turning, replaying the conversation in her mind, unable to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong.  
She had half a mind to call him back after a few hours, or call Ralph, but she didn't want to wake them up. And finally she remembered the last things he had said to her. They had stung deeply. They had loved each other, and now, after three months, the Doctor still couldn't see that she would never have betrayed his secrets. That was entirely his problem, not hers. So what if Clara indeed missed him, so what if she still had feelings – she would never come crawling back, unless he apologized for everything that he had said. 

“Sweetheart, you look like hell,” her grandmother said as she entered the kitchen, finding Clara already sitting in front of her 3rd cup of coffee.  
“Didn't sleep well,” she replied, not even looking up from the morning newspaper. She hadn't really been reading, just skimming through, maybe hoping to find some news about the Doctor.  
“Nightmares?”  
Her grandmother sat down next to her.  
“More like nightmarish phone calls,” Clara took a deep breath, still not daring to look at her granny, “The Doctor called last night. Or rather this morning.”  
“Really?” she asked excitedly, “What did he say?”  
“Phew. . . lots of things. Confusing things. Insulting things.”  
“Insulting?”  
“I don't really feel like going over the details, but yes, he still doesn't believe me. Thinks I sold his secrets and asked me how much I was paid for them. Basically, what he said is that he thinks I'm a whore.”  
“What on earth would make him call you in the middle of the night just to tell you that?” her grandmother asked in disbelief.  
“I, uhm,” Clara paused. She didn't want to admit it to herself, because it would mean that she carried at least part of the blame, “I'm not sure. He sounded. . . drunk. But it can't be. He's been sober and clean for so long and he's always been so careful about that stuff. He doesn't even drink coffee. I'm sure he was just sleep deprived.”  
Clara suddenly felt her grandmother's hand on her own and she was squeezing it lightly.  
“Clara, what if he really is in trouble?”  
“Then he should've called me and said he needed my help, not thrown these things in my face,” Clara said, “No, he's got Ralph and Cynthia and his manager. He's fine.”  
“I really think you should call him back. If he's fine, you can block his number and be done with it. But if he isn't. . .”  
“No,” Clara interrupted her grandmother, “He _is_ fine. He's a bastard. But he's fine. And I need to get to work.”

Clara got up and left the room before her grandmother could even say another word. She didn't want to hear it. The Doctor was fine. He was doing what he had always done and he was still mad at her.  
She got dressed, fed Cookie and headed to work where another piece of bad news was waiting for her. Dave told Clara that she had been working overtime and ordered her to take a long weekend off. It was only Thursday and he insisted that he didn't want to see her back to work until Wednesday. Clara tried to argue, but it was no use. She liked her new job. She didn't love it, but she liked it and most importantly it kept her mind busy and away from the subject she wanted to avoid at all costs: the Doctor.  
Clara didn't really mind leaving work early today, but five long days with just her thoughts were too much. She was tired. She needed sleep, what she really didn't need was more time to think about the Doctor.  
Before she headed back home Clara went into the staff kitchen to rinse out her coffee cup, yawning and looking forward to a long nap with Cookie purring next to her when suddenly her phone started buzzing in her pocket.  
Clara put her cup aside and reached into her pocket, retrieving her phone and staring at the display. Her eyes widened. The Doctor. He was calling her again. Clara's heart immediately started beating faster and she had almost answered the call at once. But maybe she shouldn't? Maybe she should just let it ring, ignore him. She had every right after what he had said her to last night. Yet her heart got the better of her and so she answered.  
“This better be an apology, Doctor, or I swear I will block your number!” Clara said angrily and she would've said more, but couldn't think of anything mean to throw at him so spontaneously.  
“Clara, it's Ralph.”

Clara couldn't tell whether her heart had stopped or if it was beating too fast for her to even notice it. She wanted to say something, but couldn't find her voice. Ralph was calling. From the Doctor's number. Something had happened. Clara felt nauseous.  
“W-what's wrong?” Clara asked after a moment, her voice trembling, “Ralph, tell me what's wrong!”  
She should have listened to him last night. She should have asked him how he was doing. She should not have yelled at him like she had. For God's sake, she should have noticed that something was not right.  
But she had. And she had ignored it.  
“Clara, I need you. The Doctor needs you. He is in a really bad place and he needs your help. Please, Clara, if you ever loved him, just listen to me.”  
“ _What happened to him?_ ” Clara demanded to know, the panic now definitely audible in her voice.  
“Nothing. Yet. But I'm afraid it's only a matter of time. I don't know what he said to you last night, but he still loves you and he misses you,” Ralph said calmly.  
Clara sank down on one of the kitchen chairs. Her legs were shaking and she was scared about what Ralph was going to tell her.  
“It didn't sound like it last night. He still doesn't believe me.”  
“Make him believe it. Please, Clara, I'm in over my head here. I know you loved him, I know it was Missy who screwed that up. He needs you here. Please, you have to come here immediately.”  
Clara sighed. “What if he doesn't wanna see me? Ralph, you don't know what he said to me last night.”  
“He was drunk, Clara, he didn't know what he was saying. He's been using again ever since you left but it keeps getting worse and worse. I don't know how to make him see reason. He's being an idiot and Cynthia and I are utterly powerless. But we think that if you talked to him, if he knew that you really cared for him, . . .”  
“I still do,” Clara finally admitted, “I miss him, too. But I'm not sure about him.”  
“He's really bad at coping with feelings. You don't know what it's like with him right now, Clara, I don't want to scare you, but it's bad and he needs you. You are probably the only person he would listen to and if you say that you still love him you _have_ to come here and help him.”

Clara took a deep breath. If the Doctor really was in a bad shape, if he really, truly missed her.  
“Clara?”  
“Yes,” she finally replied, “Yes, I'm coming. I'm catching the first train that I can.”  
“Can't you fly here? It's much faster, and I'll make sure Cynthia picks you up from the airport.”  
Clara hesitated. She hated flying, loathed it. She hadn't set foot on a plane since she was a teenager.  
“Please?”  
“It's that bad, huh?” she asked.  
“I sent him to take a shower now but I don't know what he's going to do when he gets out. Clara, please.”  
“Alright, I'll do it,” she said, “I'll fly to Scotland.”  
“He's coming back downstairs. . . thank you so much! See you later.”  
“See y-,” Clara wanted to reply, but Ralph had already hung up. 

Clara needed a moment to gather her thoughts. The Doctor had relapsed after she had left and she hadn't known. Suddenly it all made sense to her. The newspaper article she had read. It wasn't for show, that was him, needing help. The phone call last night, he probably really hadn't known what he was saying. She had been so stupid. She should have fought for him. She shouldn't have left him alone and in pain. Clara grabbed her phone and her jacket and dashed out of the building.

As soon as she got home, she ran upstairs to her room, opened her small suitcase and started to randomly gather some clothes, throwing them all in without folding them. She even ignored Cookie's cries for attention. 

“Clara?” her grandmother appeared in the doorway.  
Clara barely glanced at her, she was too busy collecting her things. “Can you watch Cookie for the weekend, please? I-I don't know when I'll be back,” she spluttered, “But I have to be back at work at Wednesday, so probably not before Tuesday.”  
She ran into the bathroom next door and grabbed a few items she thought she needed to take. Toothbrush, shampoo, . . .  
“Clara, slow down. Where are you even going?” her grandmother asked, sounding worried.  
“Scotland,” Clara replied quickly, gasping for breath in between words, “I'm going to Scotland. It's the Doctor. Ralph just called me. The Doctor. He needs me. I have to go.”  
“Do you need help packing?” her grandmother asked calmly.  
Clara zipped up her suitcase and turned around. “No, I'm done. But could you call a taxi?”  
Her grandmother gave her a weak smile. “Of course, honey.”

Clara wasn't sure what was worse. The flight in a small machine that made her feel as if someone was taking a beater to her brain or the fear of what she was going to find once she landed in Glasgow. Ralph had said that the Doctor still loved her, but how well did he really know him? He could be mistaken. The Doctor could get furious and send her away again. It could make things worse.  
Part of the nausea subsided when Clara finally felt asphalt beneath her feet again, but the worry was still there and even Cynthia's face did nothing to calm her down.  
“It's good to see you, Clara,” she said and hugged her quickly, “How was your flight?”  
“Horrible. I hate flying and I'm never doing that again,” she said breathlessly.  
“Well, I'm glad you did it this once. The Doctor will be happy to see you,” Cynthia smiled at her.  
“Are you sure?” Clara asked, still anything but convinced.  
“Absolutely,” she replied, “Don't doubt that for a second. Just. . .”  
Cynthia paused and it made Clara wary.  
“Just what?” she raised her eyebrows as they started walking towards the car.  
“Don't be scared.”  
“Of what?”  
“He's in a bad shape, but you're lucky. Ralph forced him to take a shower today,” she sighed, “It's gonna take some work, getting him back. But if you talk to him I'm certain he can get some of his vigour back. We will work it out.”

An hour later they were parked in front of the Doctor's house and still Clara was frightened to step inside. Cynthia had talked her up, assured her that the Doctor still loved her, but still – she was afraid.  
“Don't worry. It's gonna be fine,” Cynthia said, “Just send Ralph home. I think he's done enough babysitting.”  
Clara nodded and opened the car door. With her suitcase in one hand, she reached for the door handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so, sooooo much for the comments :)


	25. Chapter 25

The place was darker than she remembered it, only a few lights actually switched on and it was definitely messier. Clara left her suitcase by the door and carefully stepped through the corridor. She could hear Ralph's voice talking to the Doctor in the living room. Hesitantly she stepped inside.  
Clara hardly recognized him. The man who was lying in the beanbag was definitely her Doctor, but he looked even thinner than he had before, his hair utterly messy and longer than than she remembered it, but the hair was something she didn't mind at all. The stubble on his chin had almost become a full-grown beard. He had his eyes closed, either sleeping or listening to Ralph, Clara couldn't tell.

Ralph noticed her first and she smiled in his direction, waving carefully.  
“Doctor, I think there's someone here to see you,” he said.  
The Doctor let out a tired groan. He wasn't asleep then. “Send them away.”  
“Are you sure?” Ralph stood up and walked over to Clara, greeting her with a swift kiss on the cheek.  
Finally the Doctor opened his eyes. He blinked. And stared at her. And blinked again as if he wasn't sure whether Clara was real or merely an illusion. She felt herself get angry again and resisted the urge to slap him for completely letting himself go in her absence. Instead she took a deep breath and stepped closed.  
“You are an idiot, Doctor,” she said, although her voice didn't come out as angry as she thought it would. Still he was only gawking. Clara sank down on her knees in front of his beanbag and laid her hands on his knees. The touch seemed to have woken something in him.   
“Clara?” he breathed, unable to tear his eyes from her and looking as if he expected her to vanish any second.   
“I am absolutely furious with you, you idiot!” she said strictly, but looking at him, completely in shock over her appearance and obviously still under the influence of something, Clara could hardly fight back the tears in her eyes, “You cannot scare me like that! You have to take better care of yourself! I flew all the way from Blackpool to you because I got scared when Ralph called me! You cannot do that, Doctor. Do not ever scare me like that again! Do you hear me?!”  
“You flew?”   
That was all he said, but he was still gawking.  
“Yes, you dimwit, because I was worried!”  
“But you. . . you hate flying. You never fly.”  
“I did it for _you_ ,” she almost yelled, “And don't get me wrong but I'm not doing that again.”

The Doctor sank down from his beanbag, landing on his knees and before Clara could react he had wrapped his arms so tightly around her that she found it hard to breathe.  
“Clara,” he whispered, burying his face in her hair, and began to sob, “I'm so sorry. So sorry. I love you, Clara, please, don't ever leave me again. I'm sorry I doubted you. I'm sorry you had to see me like this. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Clara, please forgive me. I've missed you so much.”  
Clara nuzzled against his shoulder, drying her tears on the fabric of his shirt. It felt so good to touch him again, to have him touch her. She had missed him but she only now realized just how much. She had been so stupid.  
“I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have lied. I shouldn't have left.”  
The Doctor left their embrace and took her face in both his hands, crushing their lips together before she could say another word. She faintly heard the front door close in the distance, thinking that Ralph must have left, but that wasn't important. The only thing that mattered to her now was her Doctor and kissing him until they ran out of air.   
The kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated, his tongue lazy and she could still taste the Scotch on his breath, but she loved him. They would fix it, no matter how long it took. And she wouldn't leave him again, not ever. This was all she wanted for the rest of her life, her Doctor. How could Clara have lied to herself these past months? How did she ever think she wanted to be without him? All this time thinking that she had moved on – she had been so, so, so, wrong.  
Finally the Doctor broke the kiss, gasping for air and Clara reached for his cheek, gently wiping away his tears. The Doctor did the same for her. They looked each other in the eyes for a while, capturing the moment, taking in every detail to make sure it wasn't a dream. And then they started to giggle.  
“We're both idiots,” Clara laughed.  
“I love you,” he said quietly, and kissed the corner of her mouth.  
Clara smiled at him. “I love you, too.”

And he kissed her, as if to make sure she understood what he was trying to tell her. And she did.   
“Doctor,” she said when their lips parted again, “You need to sleep. How long have you been up?”  
“I don't know,” he replied breathlessly.  
“Let's go to bed. Come on, I'm tired, too.”

Clara was the first to stand up and she extended both her hands, helping him up. He was still a little unsteady on his feet so they walked up to the bedroom together. Neither of them bothered with taking their clothes off, they just fell flat onto the bed and the Doctor wrapped his arms around Clara. It felt so easy, so familiar, so right, as if the past three months had never even taken place.   
“I've missed this,” Clara admitted as she nuzzled against his chest.   
“I've missed _you_ ,” he said sleepily, “And I'm sorry.”  
“We're gonna fix this. Together,” she sighed, “But first you need to sleep. And so do I for that matter.”  
“I'm scared.”  
Clara looked up at him. His eyes were already closed, but there was still a slight frown on his face.  
“Of sleeping?”  
“No,” he replied quietly, “That you might not be here when I wake up.”

She sat up next to him and gently let her hand wander over his forehead and through his hair. It was as soft as she remembered it. She found herself smiling.   
“I'm not going anywhere,” she promised and bent down to brush her lips against his, “You can hold me, if you want to make sure.”  
The Doctor pulled her down on top of him, pressing her against his chest.   
“Try escaping now,” he chuckled sleepily.   
“Not a chance. Guess I'll have to stay,” she smiled and sighed in contentment, “Sleep well, Doctor.”  
“Sleep well, darling.”

 

Clara woke up first, still pressed tightly against the Doctor. Only now she understood what the Doctor had told her over three months ago. This was the first thing in a very long time that felt real to her. Waking up in her grandmother's house, going to work, pretending that he wasn't that important to her – all of that had been a lie and here was exactly where she wanted to be.  
She tried to move as little as possible, but soon found the Doctor stirring beneath her as well, but not quite waking up. Clara smiled to herself. She had him back, her Doctor and she loved him now more than ever. Her hand was wandering over his chest, carefully flattening the creases in his shirt and finally slipping under it, over his warm and smooth skin. He felt so good that she wanted to caress his entire body.  
“Mhhhh,” she heard him hum. He sounded happy and the corner of his mouth formed a light smile, but he was still half asleep. 

Clara was suddenly possessed by a wicked idea and she carefully ran her palm over his stomach and slid her flat hand under his waistband until she found him, giving him a couple of light strokes to wake him up.   
The Doctor gave a small, hardly audible moan and pushed his hips into her direction as he was beginning to harden under her touch. Clara wrapped her hand more tightly around him. His eyes were still closed but other parts of him were now definitely awake. He moaned her name and it sent shivers right down into her core, making Clara tingle with want for him.   
She rose from her position and stripped off her clothes first before she began opening the Doctor's trousers, his erection now pressing uncomfortably against the fabric, and pulling them and his pants off his legs.   
Finally the Doctor opened his eyes and smiled at her as she was sitting between his legs.  
“I wasn't sure if I was dreaming until now,” he said sleepily, “Felt too good to be real.”  
“Could a dream do this?” Clara asked teasingly before she bent down and ran her tongue along his shaft and circled his tip. He twitched under her and the Doctor groaned, his hands anchoring in her hair.  
“Not. . . ohhhh. . . convinced,” he moaned as Clara took the tip of him into her mouth, “Need more.”

She slowly sucked him into her mouth, causing the Doctor to utter a strangled noise that made her quiver. He moved underneath her, rocking his hips to plunge deeper into her mouth, so freely, so needy, almost uncontrollable in his half-sleep that Clara almost felt bad for pausing as soon as she found him rock solid and she could feel the salty taste oh him on her tongue.  
“Oh Clara,” he panted as her lips left him, “Please, don't stop.”  
Instead she straddled his lap and quickly bent down to place a swift kiss on his lips, but his hand caught hold of her head and held her down, his tongue plunging hungrily into her mouth. A moan escaped her throat as she felt him pressed against her sex. She wanted him. She needed him. And she loved him. 

Finally he broke the kiss, both of them gasping for air and smiling at each other right before Clara lowered herself down onto his cock. The Doctor's head sank back into the pillows with a groan, his hands guiding her hips on top of him, leading a frantic rhythm. Clara steadied herself, hands flat on his chest and threw her head back, feeling him meet her every motion as he pushed deeper inside her. She whimpered his name, but the Doctor never heard her. He seemed almost in trace and it was over way too soon when he spilled himself inside of her a few thrusts later, panting and her name on his lips. Clara collapsed into the pillows next to him, not quite satisfied, but ineffably happy. She had him back and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes what you've all been waiting for :) Hope you enjoy and thank you all so very much for the lovely comments!


	26. Chapter 26

“Sorry, I'm a little out of practice,” the Doctor apologized as he pulled her closer to his chest. Clara leaned against him, sighing happily.  
“It's okay,” she said with a smile, “We can _practice_ some more later.”  
“Marvellous idea,” he replied and bent down, placing a kiss on her cheek. His lips moved on to her ear and she heard him whisper something into it.

Clara turned around to look at him in confusion.  
“Is that. . .?”  
He nodded. “My name. No more secrets, Clara. Now you truly know everything about me.”  
For a moment she didn't know what to say. “Can I still call you Doctor?”  
“I don't see why not,” he shrugged, “Everyone does.”

Clara settled back into his arms, but her great mood had somehow vanished.  
“I'm so sorry, Doctor.”  
“For what?” he asked.  
“I let you down. I should've been here for you, in fact, I should never have left. I feel like I'm responsible for everything. You've been so loving and generous and in return I lied to you because I was afraid you would think. . . well, exactly what you ended up thinking.”  
“It's not your fault, Clara. I could have listened to you instead of my own fears and insecurities. None of what happened is your fault. And Ralph was right. I need to learn to deal with my feelings rather than dull them.”  
“How exactly did it happen?” Clara asked carefully. She felt like she needed to know.  
“Gradually,” he replied simply, “When you left I had this problem with my back. I took something and it helped and I, I was okay. It didn't cause anything for me. What I had feared would happen, that I would suddenly start craving the drugs and the alcohol again, that didn't happen and I thought I was okay. I went out with Ralph, someone offered me something, I took it. I felt great. A few days later I dared to have a few drinks and still nothing. I didn't even realize it was turning back into a problem until Christmas.”  
“Why? What happened at Christmas?”  
“I had promised Ralph and Cynthia to come over for lunch. I was late and hungover, she called me and I realized I didn't even know it was Christmas at all. I had completely lost track,” he explained and Clara thought that there was more that he wanted to say, but the Doctor kept it to himself.  
She didn't need him to tell her. She knew. She knew that he probably considered getting help, but that he saw no reason. Only the Doctor was too much of a gentleman to say that it was all because of her.

“I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, but I will from now on,” Clara said sincerely and sat up to look at him, “I'm gonna call work and quit. I will find something here in Glasgow and I will never, ever leave you again. If you still want me to, I will move in with you. You don't mind cats, do you?”  
The Doctor smiled. “I absolutely want you to,” he paused and raised an eyebrow, “Cats? Why cats?”  
Clara stared at him insecurely. “I may have adopted a cat. Her name is Cookie and she is absolutely no trouble at all. You will hardly notice her.”  
He chuckled. “I'm fine with the cat.”  
The Doctor closed his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest and sighing.  
“Clara,” he breathed, “Clara, Clara, Clara. I am so glad to have you back and I hate to ask this of you.”  
“Ask what?”  
“Ask you to leave.”

“ _What?_ ” Clara almost cried out in disbelief. She struggled free of his embrace, looking at him. She must have heard him wrong, “I'm sorry, _what_? Correct me if I'm mistaken but I just thought you asked me _leave_.”  
“I did,” he sighed again, closing his eyes. He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, “Go home, or stay at Ralph and Cynthia's for a few days but you can't stay here.”  
“I just said that I am not going to leave you again, you agreed I could move in and now you're kicking me out?” Clara demanded angrily. What in God's name was wrong with him?  
“I don't want you to leave, Clara,” he replied, his voice jittery and fearful, “But I need to get clean again. I've been using a lot of things in the past three months and I want to stop. Now that you're here I want to stop but it's going to take a few days. You can't be here when I go through that.”  
“No!” said furiously, “I'm not leaving.”  
The Doctor took a deep breath. He looked utterly lost now. “You don't understand. I've been through this once before and it's nasty. I can't let you see me like this.”

Clara's features softened a little. He was being an idiot – again. But she wouldn't let him. She was never going to leave him in trouble ever again.  
“I'm staying,” she insisted, “I don't care that it's gonna be tough. I want to help you.”  
The Doctor groaned and struggled into a sitting position. “You already helped me, Clara. _You_ are the reason I want to stop this. Please, do this for me. Ralph and Cynthia will take you in. You have no idea what I will be like. I won't be myself, Clara. I-” he paused, “I'm afraid you will hate me.”  
“I don't care.”  
“You aren't prepared. Even Missy wasn't prepared last time. She left me and locked me up and that's what I intend to do again. Just a few days, Clara, and it'll all be over. But please, leave. I don't want you to see me like this.”  
Clara reached out and took his hand. She noticed how cold and slightly sweaty it was. “No way,” she said calmly, “I will not leave. I don't care what you will say to me, I know it won't be _you_ talking. Doctor, please, let me stay with you. Tell me it would not be easier for you if I stayed here?!”  
He sighed. “It would. But-”  
“No but. I'm staying,” Clara decided and leaned forward to kiss him, “Now let's go downstairs and get some breakfast.”

 

Since her own clothes were still downstairs in her suitcase, Clara grabbed one of the Doctor's shirts to put on while he got dressed as well. He trailed after her as she made her way into the kitchen.  
“God, your fridge is more than empty. I'm gonna have to ask Ralph to do some shopping,” she said while retrieving a few eggs and some ham that she dearly hoped wasn't past the best-before-date.  
Clara turned around to look at the Doctor but he didn't seem to have listened to her. He was paler than before and his eyes were glued to the bottle of Scotch on the kitchen table.  
“Are you okay?” she asked carefully.  
“No,” he replied in a low voice as he sat down at the counter, “It's starting.”  
Clara stepped forward, grabbed the bottle from the table and quickly emptied it into the sink before the Doctor could say another word.  
“We better get rid of anything even remotely tempting in this house. Just tell me where everything is and you don't need to worry about it,” Clara said, hoping that her insecurity didn't show. She had told him she would stay, but she had no idea what was going to happen. The Doctor looked utterly miserable and now she noticed that his hands were starting to shake, no matter how much he tried to hide it from her.  
“You can still leave,” the Doctor said, “I won't blame you if you do.”  
“Not an option,” Clara replied determinedly, “Now tell me where everything is and I will get rid of it.”

 

With the Doctor's help Clara started to gather everything he had accumulated during the past few months. She found bottles of all sorts of alcohol, mostly Scotch, a few envelopes containing pills of which she didn't even want to know what they did and even a small dose of a white powder that she strongly suspected to be cocaine. She poured it all down the drain and sighed when it was finally done.  
“Was that all?” she asked, her arms akimbo.  
The Doctor rose from the kitchen chair and walked over to her, turning on the tap.  
“Leave it running for a while,” he told her.  
“Why?”  
“Just trust me,” the Doctor said, “I'm gonna take a shower.”  
“Okay,” she breathed nervously, “Breakfast will be ready when you come back down.”

 

As soon as the Doctor had left the room Clara sank down on one of the chairs. He had looked so drained and miserable that Clara couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right decision. If things got out of hand she could call Ralph. He would be there for them, but she wasn't sure if she was really prepared for what was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very much for you lovely comments :)))


	27. Chapter 27

“Clara, you can't do this to me. You're our best writer. Please, please, reconsider this.”  
“I'm sorry, Dave,” Clara said into the phone and at the same time dropped the eggs into the frying pan, “My mind is made up. I am moving to Scotland. In fact, I'm already in Scotland. Look, if you want me to I can call some of my friends from university, see if anyone's in need of a job.”  
“Was working for us really that bad?” her former boss asked.  
Clara grabbed the spoon and started stirring the eggs in the pan, “Absolutely not. I told you, I have personal reasons, which are too difficult to explain, really. I'm sorry. I really am. _Damn!_ ”  
The eggs were starting to smoke in one corner and Clara quickly took the pan off the oven. “Sorry, Dave, I'm gonna have to call you back again. I'll see if I can find a replacement. Bye!”  
She hung up but the damage was already done. Part of the eggs were burnt while the other half was still raw.  
“Well done, Clara Oswald,” she scolded herself and dropped the spoon on the counter. 

“Darling, don't take this the wrong way, but you're a disaster in the kitchen,” the Doctor, who had stepped back into the kitchen, said as he picked up the spoon and pushed the pan back unto the oven. While she had been on the phone with her grandmother to inform her she would be staying in Scotland for a while and later her boss to tell him she was quitting, the Doctor had showered and shaved and put on fresh clothes. He looked a little more like his old self now.  
“Has anyone ever told you that you don't insult the cook?” Clara asked grumpily and watched as the eggs were slowly turning into something actually edible as the Doctor swiftly added the ham and some dried herbs. He tried to hide it, but Clara could still see how his hands were trembling and he nervously balanced his weight from one leg to the other.  
Before she had called her grandmother and boss Clara had quickly looked up the symptoms of withdrawal on her phone. She felt a little better prepared now, but still scared of the days that were ahead of them. Yet she was sure it was nothing Clara Oswald couldn't handle if she really wanted to. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked carefully.  
The Doctor exhaled sharply. “Scared. . . Edgy. And I would still prefer it if you decided to stay somewhere else the next couple of days, but-”  
His voice was interrupted by the doorbell and Clara quickly exchanged a glance between the Doctor at the frying pan and the door.  
“I'll get it,” Clara decided, “Better not do any more damage to the eggs.”  
As she opened the door she spotted Cynthia and Arco standing in front of it. The dog was wagging its tail enthusiastically at Clara while Cynthia held up a large bag of groceries.  
“Here, I thought you could need some food,” she said, smiling at Clara and handing over the bag.  
“Oh, you're a lifesaver! Thank you! The fridge is absolutely empty,” Clara replied gratefully and placed the bag by the door before rubbing Arco's ears.  
“We're going to the shop on Monday. If you need anything, just text me the list and we'd be happy to bring you everything. Hope this gets you over the weekend,” Cynthia said.  
“Thank you,” Clara repeated earnestly, “You're a real help! I don't really want to leave him alone just yet.”  
“How are things?” she asked, raising a worried eyebrow.  
Clara drew in a sharp breath. “Between us things are great. The Doctor and I are good, more than that.”  
“And how is _he_?”  
She hesitated. “He wants me to stay with you guys while he's going through detox, but I said I wouldn't leave him. I know it won't be easy but I think he needs me more than he wants to admit. I don't want to leave him. Not again.”  
Cynthia gave her a sympathetic smile. “You're doing the right thing, Clara. I knew that if you came back, if he realized the truth, the Doctor would come to his senses. Ralph and I, we never doubted that you honestly cared for him, but the Doctor can be so stubborn. We should have called you earlier, but he freaked out as soon as someone mentioned your name. We knew he missed you, but we weren't sure how he'd react.”  
“Thank you. . . for everything.”  
“Listen, if you need any help, any help at all, don't hesitate to call us. And whatever happens in the next couple of days, try not to take it to heart. You know he is a great guy and whatever he says, he doesn't mean it.”  
Clara swallowed hard. Apparently Cynthia was talking from experience and Clara could only vaguely imagine what she and Ralph had been hearing from the Doctor in the past few months. But she wouldn't give up on the Doctor. Not again. And it wasn't like she didn't have the best support in the world.  
“Thank you,” Clara said again and she meant it.  
“Well, I should be off. Arco is desperate for his walk.”

 

Clara said goodbye to Cynthia and petted Arco once more before she headed back into the kitchen to put away the groceries when she found the Doctor sitting in front of their breakfast.  
“Cynthia came by with some groceries,” Clara announced, “You could've started without me before the food gets cold.”  
“I'm not particularly hungry,” the Doctor sighed.  
Clara sat down next to him and reached for the hand that was resting in his lap. He was still shaking and Clara had the bad feeling it was only going to get worse over the next few hours.  
“You need to eat,” Clara told him, “I know you're not really in the mood but you still have to eat. Maybe there is something in the bag Cynthia brought over that appeals to you a little more?”  
The Doctor leaned in to her until his mouth met hers, carefully sucking her bottom lip while his hand cupped her cheek.  
“I am not on the menu,” Clara said in a muffled voice while he was still kissing her. The Doctor chuckled as he pulled away from her.  
“I'm just. . . so glad that you're back and I want you to know that,” he said nervously.  
“I know,” Clara replied happily, but quickly changed the tone in her voice, “Now eat!”  
“Yes, boss,” the Doctor replied grumpily and picked up the fork.  
Clara started on her own plate and was surprised it actually tasted good, even though she had burned part of it. 

“Doctor, are you sure you should be at home?” Clara asked after a while, her voice sounding insecure, “I've read about it and they said withdrawal can be dangerous. Maybe you'd be better off in a hospital.”  
“Absolutely not!” the Doctor said sharply. “If I go to a hospital or into a clinic, the press is going to find out and I haven't yet figured out what I want to do with my career from now on. I don't want trouble and I don't want journalists poking about my personal business,” he said vehemently, “Besides. I've done it before. And if you really decide to stay you can look out for me.”  
Clara sighed.  
“Okay, but we should find something to do. You know, something that'll help you relax, keep you distracted,” she suggested.  
“Like what?”  
“We could go for a walk?”

The Doctor threw the fork onto the table after a few bites and took a deep breath.  
“Walk sounds good,” he said and rose from his chair before he started to pace the kitchen floor, “Let's go.”  
“What? Now?” Clara looked at him in surprise. She now realized that he had been trying to stay calm and relaxed the entire time but actually seemed to be bursting from the inside.  
“Don't suggest things if you don't wanna do them,” the Doctor said harshly.  
“Okay, okay,” she agreed, “We'll go for a walk. I'll get my coat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very, very much for the comments and messages *hugs you all*


	28. Chapter 28

The Doctor took a deep breath as soon as they stepped outside and Clara reached for his arm, holding it as they walked away from the house.  
“You're holding up great,” Clara said reassuringly after a moment. He was walking next to her, but she got the feeling that he would rather break out into a run.   
He gave a nervous laugh. “I'm trying not to show it too much. But this is just the beginning.”  
“Doctor,” she began cautiously, “You don't have to pretend to be fine just because of me. We wanted to be honest with each other, remember? No more lies.”  
The Doctor sighed. “I know, I know. No more lies.”  
Clara squeezed his arm a little more tightly. “I know the next few days are not going to be a walk in the park, but I don't need you to protect me. You need to tell me how you really feel, otherwise I can't help you.”  
“Oh, you want the truth?” he looked at her, a mocking laugh escaping his lips, “Well, here is the truth. I am terrified. I feel like I'm about to burst and the worst hasn't even started. I'm scared I can't do it. Right now I look at you and I know I can only keep you if I stop using, but if this gets worse I don't know what I'm gonna do.”  
He paused, gasping for air. He ran out of breath purely by talking.  
“I am terrified I am going to do something or say something that will make you leave. Whatever happens, Clara, promise me to stay strong when I can't.”  
Clara hesitated. “I promise. Don't worry, and don't worry about what you are going to say. Nothing will ever make me leave you again.”  
The Doctor scoffed. “I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

 

Clara didn't know what else to say, there was nothing she could say that would ease his mind, so she would just have to show him. The Doctor pulled up the collar of his coat as they walked and Clara noticed that the trembling grew worse.  
“You're cold, aren't you?” she asked.  
“Yes,” he hissed through his teeth, “I'm afraid that's part of the process.”  
“Okay, we should head back then. Draw you a hot bath. Or sit by the fire, covered in blankets.”  
“I like the second option.”

 

They walked back to the house, Clara holding on to his arm the entire time because she was afraid of what would happen if she let go. The Doctor seemed completely lost, almost out of touch with the real world, shaking all over, and she thought the only thing that was keeping him sane was her grip on his arm.   
He sank unto the floor before the fireplace, not even taking off his coat, while Clara lit a small fire.  
“There,” she said when the wood was finally burning, “It's gonna be warm and cosy in a few minutes.”  
Clara walked into the kitchen and a moment later came back with a bottle of water that she handed to the Doctor. His hands were trembling worse than ever.  
“You need to drink more, Doctor,” she reminded him. He only nodded in reply.  
Clara grabbed two blankets and draped them around the Doctor's shoulders and legs before sitting down in a beanbag behind him. He leaned against her legs and Clara's hands wandered to his shoulders, massaging them gently.  
“Would you like to listen to some music?” she asked carefully, “Maybe that'll keep you distracted?”  
“No, my head hurts. I don't want noise,” he replied grumpily as he pulled the blanket closer around him.   
Clara sighed and bent down to place a soft kiss on his head before her hands wandered up to his head, fingers burying inside his hair and massaging his scalp.  
The Doctor let out a tired groan.  
“Does that feel good?” Clara wanted to know.  
“Very,” he sighed, “Why don't you keep doing that for the next 3 hours and tell me a story?”  
The Doctor chuckled, a sound Clara loved to hear because it meant he still had some humour left in him.   
“Okay, then, do you want to know how I came by my new pet?”  
“Sure. Cookie, right?”  
“Yes,” Clara confirmed, “I was taking the train to Blackpool because I wanted to see my grandma, I stopped at a smaller station where I had to switch trains. I bought something to eat and suddenly there was this small, black cat, meowing at me, begging for food.”  
“And you fed the cat, of course?”  
“Of course. And then she wouldn't leave my side, even when the train came. So I just took her, stuffed her in my bag and took her home with me. Are you still cold?”  
“Yes.”

 

Clara slid down from her beanbag, parted her legs and hugged the Doctor from behind, leaning her head against his back. He was still trembling all over.  
“We're gonna make it, Doctor. We're gonna get through this,” she told him calmly.  
The Doctor took one of her hands into his one and raised it to his mouth, placing a light kiss on the back of it. Clara smiled to herself.  
“I'm exhausted,” he admitted after a while.  
“I bet you have a lot of sleep to catch up on as well. Do you want to go to bed?” Clara asked, pressing herself closer against him.   
“I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep.”  
Clara chuckled. “I could recite old nursery rhymes until you fall asleep from sheer boredom.”  
“Is that going to work?”  
She shrugged. “It's worth a try.”

 

Clara struggled free from their embrace and got up from the ground, the Doctor following her shortly after, but as soon as he was in a standing position, Clara again wrapped her arms tightly around him.   
“I love you so much, Doctor,” she whispered against his chest, “I can't believe I've been lying to myself for the past three months, thinking I could just forget about you.”  
“I'm glad to have you back and I,” he paused, his hand carefully stroking her back, “I'm grateful that you're staying with me. Without you I'd probably be going nuts already.”  
“Come on, let's get you to bed,” Clara decided and took his hand, leading him out of the living room and up the stairs to the large bed.   
The Doctor let himself fall into the sheets immediately, wrapping himself up in the duvet. Clara sat down next to him.   
“Do you need anything else?” she asked, “Tea? Food? Hot water bottle?”  
“Just you,” he replied with a weak smile, reaching out for her hand. 

Clara let him pull her down unto the bed as well and he wrapped his arms around her, spooning her, his own body pressed tightly against her back. His breath was hot on her neck and Clara was sure he was developing a fever.  
“Try to sleep, Doctor,” Clara whispered.  
“I will.”

 

Despite a lot of shaking and trembling and Clara getting increasingly warm under the Doctor's embrace he eventually fell asleep, and apparently so did she because when Clara opened her eyes again it was pitch black night and the alarm clock on the bedside table said 3:14 am. They had slept for quite a long time and Clara was beginning to wonder what had woken her up when she felt the Doctor press himself more tightly against her. His hand was wandering over her stomach and his lips were touching her neck, almost burning it with the heat of his body. The trembling however hadn't subsided.  
“You're up,” Clara mumbled sleepily.  
“Yes,” he hissed, burying his face in her neck and kissing her skin.   
Clara smiled, his touch tingling on her body. “I get this feeling that you want something.”  
She turned around to face him, but soon realized she could hardly see a thing, so she raised her hand to touch his cheek. His skin was burning and covered in sweat and all of a sudden the cosy feeling she had gotten from his touch vanished and was replace by suspiciousness.  
“What do you want?” she asked warily.   
“Clara, my Clara,” he whispered before he bent down to press his lips onto her own in hasty movement, but Clara pushed him away.  
“Doctor, are you okay?”   
She just couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong with him. Maybe he was in pain or delirious. He was breathing heavily.  
“Clara, I've made a mistake,” he breathed, rocking back and forth, “I'm not feeling so well.”  
“What?” she asked, her voice panic-stricken, and sat up in bed immediately, “Do you need me to call an ambulance? Do you want to go to the hospital?”  
“No,” the Doctor shook his head vehemently, “No, no, not that.”  
He covered his face with his hands, wiping the sweat away, his breathing still too rapid for Clara to calm down. She was starting to get really worried.  
“What's wrong, Doctor? Tell me!”  
“Clara, I think it was a mistake to stop all at once. I. . . I can't do. Please, Clara, let me call someone. I swear, I will ease off the drugs slowly, but please, just let me take something. I can't stand this. I can't do it.”  
“Doctor!” Clara cried out in abhorrence. Was this really happening? Was he begging her to let him use again?  
“Clara, please,” he begged, now clutching his stomach in agony. He was suffering badly. Now the real phase of withdrawal had started, “I can't do this. Not like this. Please, it would be so much easier if I could ease off the drugs slowly.”  
“Absolutely not!”  
“Please, Clara, look at me. Do you want this for me?” he asked her. There were tears glistening in the corner of his eyes.  
“Doctor,” she replied calmly, “You asked me to stay strong when you couldn't and that's what I'm gonna do now. Just. . . just hang in there. If it's this bad already you almost made it through the worst part. Don't give up now.”  
Clara reached out to touch him, but the Doctor avoided it and sat up in bed as well.   
“I can't believe you, Clara! This is your fault! It's because of you that I am in this pain!” he yelled at her.  
“No, you're not blaming this on me, Doctor,” Clara said strictly, “I know what this is. You're trying to guilt me into giving in but it won't work. You're doing well. You can do this.”  
“I'm not doing well!” the Doctor shouted and got out of bed, pacing the room, “You have no idea what it's like. It feels like I'm burning up from the inside. I need something, anything. I can't sleep, I can't think, it's eating me up. Clara, please, please, just. . . anything!”  
“For the last time, Doctor, I won't let you mess up the progress that you've made. If you give in now you will never get out of this.”  
“You don't know that! You don't know me, Clara. I just need to take it slow. Trust me, it will be easier!”  
“No!” Clara shouted louder than before.

 

This seemed to have stopped the Doctor because he ceased to pace and stared directly at her as much as it was possible in this darkness. But when Clara thought he had finally calmed down the Doctor turned around and stormed out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the comments :)


	29. Chapter 29

Clara considered leaving him alone for a moment, but soon the fear crept up inside of her and she followed him downstairs. She had no idea what he was going to do and leaving him alone right now seemed too big of a risk to take. Eventually she found him in the kitchen, leaning over the sink.  
“Doctor?” Clara asked carefully as she stepped closer.  
He turned around, laughing. Now in the light she could see how bad he must be feeling. He was absolutely pale, his skin glimmering with sweat.  
“I told you to flush them all properly, didn't I? And you did,” he said, a mocking laugh on his lips before he kicked his foot against the counter.  
“Stop it,” Clara shouted immediately and approached him, reaching out to grab his arms, “You're hurting yourself.”  
He stared at her out of watery eyes.  
“I can't do it,” he breathed, shrugging his shoulders, but at least he had calmed down, “I can't.”  
“Yes, Doctor, you can,” Clara said determinedly, “You've done it before, remember?”

The Doctor stepped back until he hit the counter and slowly slid down to sit on the floor. Clara knelt down beside him, taking his hand into hers and feeling his forehead with the other.  
“You're burning,” she noted, “Are you still cold?”  
He shook his head. “Hot.”  
“Maybe you should take a cool shower,” Clara suggested.  
“Yeah, that sounds good,” he agreed, his voice weak.  
“Come on,” she said and extended her hands to help him up, dragging him back unto his feet. Even after the past three months the Doctor was heavier than he looked and Clara had to struggle to balance out his weight.  
“Are you tired? I should probably change the sheets before you lie back down.”  
“No, not really. You can do it later. Unless you want to go back to bed?” the Doctor looked at her and for the first time after her rude awakening Clara saw a glimmer of clarity in his eyes. She felt reassured immediately.  
“No, we've slept for almost 10 hours. I could to with some walking around the house.”  
“You can take a cold shower with me,” he suggested, a hint of a smile on his lips.  
Clara nudged him gently and giggled. “I'll show after you. And mine will be warm and cosy.”

 

When the Doctor had gone back upstairs Clara switched on the lights in the living room and sighed. It was half past three and she wasn't even tired anymore, but she was hoping their sleep schedule would return to normal once the Doctor had recovered. And once he was better Clara would make him go down to Blackpool with her to meet her grandmother when she went to pick up her things. They would probably get along well and Clara could imagine her grandma being utterly curious about the man in her life. 

The man in her life. The Doctor.

Was this it then? Clara had never really thought about it, she had felt it, but not thought it through. She loved the Doctor with all her heart and she wanted to stay with him. During their first time in Scotland he had sounded so full of plans for their future and she had sort of agreed to all of them without even thinking. And during their break up she had tried very hard not to think of him at all. But now that they were back together, now that they had confessed their love, it was actually leading somewhere. Was he the man she would spend the rest of her life with?  
It was most certainly unconventional. The Doctor was older than her, he was a famous musician. What would happen to his career? Would they ever be able to walk through the city without being photographed by random strangers? Would it eventually bother her?  
Clara took a deep breath. None of this really mattered. She loved him and he loved her and now that they had cleared up all of the lies she would never leave him again. 

She went to fetch a random book from the guest bedroom, a collection of short stories by an author Clara had never heard of and went back into the living room to sit in one of the beanbags.  
It took the Doctor half an hour to come back downstairs, but when he did he was looking a lot better than he had before. He approached her without saying a word and sat down next to her, staring into empty space.  
“How are you feeling?” Clara wanted to know.  
“Temperature – normal,” he exhaled sharply, “Stomach cramps – not so normal.”  
“Maybe you should have some fennel or chamomile tea? I know it probably won't make it go away, but it's still worth a try?”  
Suddenly Clara noticed an odd expression on his face, one that she couldn't quite place, but the thought was gone when the Doctor jumped back up from his seat all of a sudden.  
“That's actually a very good idea,” he announced, “I'll go and make some.”  
“No, you don't have to,” Clara said immediately, “I can make it. You should rest.”  
“I need something to do, Clara,” the Doctor replied, he seemed nervous again, “I can't sit around.”

 

Before she could reply anything else the Doctor had rushed off into the kitchen and Clara just shrugged, turning her attention back to the book in front of her. She had no idea how much time passed, but after a while Clara got increasingly worried and she put the book aside, making her way into the kitchen.  
“Are you watching the tea steep?” Clara asked as she entered the kitchen to find the Doctor sweeping the counter, “Oh, you're cleaning. I was wondering what you were up to for so long.”  
The Doctor looked up, apparently startled by her sudden appearance.  
“Yes, cleaning. I told you I needed to do something,” he said, threw the cleaning rag aside and lifted two steaming cups from the counter.  
He handed one of it to Clara.  
“Here, made you a cup as well,” he said with a smile, handing it to her.  
“Aw, that's nice, thank you,” Clara smiled back at him before inhaling the scent of sweetened chamomile.  
“You know what,” he began after a moment, sounding slightly out of breath, “I think I'm gonna drink my cup in the bedroom. Alone. I need a moment alone.”  
“Uhm, okay,” she replied, a little confused at his sudden mood swings. He was probably feeling exhausted again, “Okay, you do that. I'll go and read some more.”

The Doctor placed a swift kiss to her cheek and headed out of the kitchen, leaving Clara slightly bewildered, but also glad. After his begging earlier she had assumed it would be much, much harder to make the Doctor see sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for the comments :)  
> I know the chapter is a bit short, but tomorrow's will be longer (since I don't have to work) and you're all gonna love it :D


	30. Chapter 30

After a moment of confusion Clara decided to give the Doctor the space he wanted. After all, she could use a moment to herself as well. Clara sat back down, reading her book and finishing her tea without a hurry before heading into the shower. The hot water felt good on her skin, relaxing and she was starting to gather up her hopes again. Soon the Doctor would feel better and they could resume the life they had dreamed of.

As Clara made her way back downstairs, finally wearing one of her own dresses that she had brought, she passed the bedroom door that the Doctor had left ajar and she peaked inside. He had left one of the bedside lamps on and was lying on his back, eyes closed, looking peaceful for once, maybe even asleep. She considered just lying down next to him for a few more hours, after all it was still early morning, but then she remembered that he wanted to be alone.  
“Do you like what you see?” he asked suddenly, his voice low, a smile playing around the corner of his lips. He had obviously heard her footsteps.  
“I thought you were asleep,” Clara replied.  
“No, just need a moment. I'll be back downstairs in a bit.”  
“I'm gonna make some breakfast, or whatever you call it at this hour. Do you want anything in particular?” she asked him carefully, hoping he wouldn't decline the food again.  
The Doctor chuckled. “Can you make pancakes without burning them?”  
“I'll try my best.”

Back in the kitchen Clara wrapped up the dough and actually managed to make a stack of decent looking pancakes and she was just about to grab a plate for herself when the Doctor finally came back downstairs.  
“How are you feeling?” she asked him again.  
He approached her, placing his arms around her waist and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.  
“A little better,” he replied.  
“You look better, too,” Clara noted with a smile, “I guess you've got the worst behind you, huh?”  
“Must be,” he said before he noticed the stack of pancakes, “Mh, they don't look too shabby.”  
The Doctor let go of her to grab two plates from the cupboard, placing them both on the table.  
“Now there's a nice compliment,” she said, her tone highly sarcastic.

But when they had settled down to eat the Doctor apologized for not believing in her cooking skills as they tasted great, although Clara believed the compliment was a lie, because the ones he made were definitely better. However she was glad to see that his appetite had returned. 

“I was thinking,” Clara began, swallowing a bite, “When you've recovered, maybe we could go to Blackpool together. You know, pick up my things. You could meet my family. If you want to.”  
The Doctor granted her a smile. “I would love that. But give me a couple of days. If I'm going to meet them I want to make a decent impression.”  
“Sure, whenever you feel ready,” Clara paused, “Is there anything in particular you feel like doing today? Relax? Go for a walk?”  
“Actually,” the Doctor said with a smile and rose from his chair, taking Clara's hand, “I have something in mind.”

Leading her out of the kitchen, the Doctor stopped in the living room in front of an old record player. He pulled her closer against his body and bent down to kiss her again, his hands wandering to her face, gently caressing her cheeks.  
“Pick a song,” he whispered unto her lips.  
“A song for what?” Clara stared at him, slightly confused as to what he was talking about.  
“ _Our_ song.”  
“I can't just pick _our_ song,” she replied, still slightly baffled, “Shouldn't it be. . . you know. . . a special song that reminds you of how you met the other person, or the first dance or. . .”  
“We'll just make it our song,” the Doctor said, “Now come on, pick one.”  
The Doctor pointed at his shelf full of records and Clara sighed in frustration. She closed her eyes and let her finger wander over the shelf, randomly stopping at one of the vinyls. The Doctor took it and pulled it off the shelf.  
“Blue Swede. Not bad,” he shrugged, closing his own eyes now and applying Clara's method to pick a song from the album.  
“Oh dear, it's gonna be something ridiculous,” Clara muttered under her breath.  
The Doctor opened his eyes slowly, glancing at the point his finger had stopped at.  
“No, I've got a better idea,” he said immediately, but still placed the record inside the player before lowering the needle.  
Clara was immediately startled by the strange sound of several _ooga chakas_ before she cringed.  
“I knew it would be something ridiculous. Please, Doctor, pick something else. Or better pick nothing at all,” she begged him, but he had already taken her by the hand again, his other arm placed tightly around her waist.  
“Wait for it,” he whispered and soon the real song began playing.  
Clara's frown turned into a smile as he began leading her over the living room floor. She hated to admit it, but she really liked the song and she could actually imagine it being _their_ song.  
“You like it,” the Doctor said with a smirk, twirling her around before pulling her back against his body.  
“Yes, I like it,” Clara admitted grumpily, her hand wandering to his lower back, “And I like this.”  
His touch wasn't as chaste as her own, his hands soon slipping down over her ass, pressing her more tightly against him as they danced. Clara found herself giggling as she felt the heat of his body on her skin.  
“You seem chipper,” she said, trying to hide how flustered she was as she felt his growing erection pressed against her stomach. Clara couldn't really tell why she was nervous all of a sudden as she had stopped counting exactly how many times they had done it, but somehow this felt again like a first time.  
“All because of you,” he whispered into her ear, his low voice almost melting her on the spot as he started slowly rubbing against her to the rhythm of the music, the friction he was causing almost unbearable.  
“I love you, Clara,” he said right before his lips sucked her earlobe, causing Clara to utter the tiniest moan.  
She slipped her hands around his back, as if holding on for dear life while his mouth made its way down her neck. His hands were at the hem of her dress but she was barely aware of them until he pulled her skirt up, breaking their contact for a moment to pull the dress over her head. The Doctor hungrily crushed his mouth on hers seconds later and Clara parted her lips, feeling his tongue playfully on her own. She found it hard to breathe.  
“I want you,” he said breathlessly after breaking the kiss, “I want you so much.”  
Meanwhile Clara fumbled with the zip of his hoodie, quickly freeing him of the first unnecessary layer of clothing that separated his skin from hers. She wanted to feel him. Carefully Clara slipped one hand under his shirt, noticing the goosebumps on his skin as her nails slightly scratched it. The Doctor took her hand in his and ran it down his stomach, stopping only when Clara felt the heat of his erection under her palm. She squeezed lightly and looked up to see the Doctor close his eyes and groan under her touch.  
“So,” Clara began, “Probably not a good idea to do it on the floor again, seeing what it did to you last time.”  
The Doctor looked back at her again, his eyes suddenly alert. “You're right.”  
In a sudden movement the Doctor swept her up and Clara let out a squeal before wrapping her legs around him as he carried her off to one of the beanbags. He sank down, Clara landing on top of his lap.  
“Doctor, you're crazy!” she laughed before he kissed her again, his fingers brushing her hair out of her face.  
“Crazy about you, absolutely crazy about you,” he replied, groaning as Clara's hips dug into his crotch, “God, Clara, I want you.”  
Clara got out of her seat and bent down, opening the button of his trousers and pulling them down as far as needed, before getting up to rid herself of her own knickers. She caught the Doctor watching her, his eyes glistening dark and so she took her time to unhook her bra just to watch the excitement in his gaze grow as it fell to the floor, baring her breasts. The Doctor stripped out of his shirt and threw it aside, his hand now trailing over his chest and down his stomach until he found his cock. Clara swallowed hard as she watched the Doctor stroke himself harder, her own sex itching for him.  
Finally she stepped forward, leaning over the Doctor. His hand wandered from himself to her breasts, cupping and squeezing them while running his thumb over her hardened nipple. She reached down, the Doctor gasping at the contact before Clara lowered herself on top of him.  
A moan escaped her lips when he filled her and she took a moment to revel in the feeling of him inside of her before she started riding him, grinding her hips down on him.  
“Oh Clara,” the Doctor uttered, his hand on her hips, guiding her down onto his cock. The other hand moved to her front, his thumb stroking her clit in the same fast paced rhythm.  
“Fuck, yes,” Clara keened. This was exactly like their first time. The same position, the same passion, the same Doctor that she had come to love.  
The Doctor pushed his hips up to meet her movements, his eyes closed and Clara wondered for a moment if he remembered their first time as well just now.  
Another thrust hit deeper, causing her to moan his name, his real name, and she pushed down harder unto him, increasing their pace further as she felt her orgasm draw closer.  
“Darling,” the Doctor panted underneath her, “Gonna . . .”  
“Mhhhh,” she squeaked as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her and he thrust further into her, finally pushing her completely over the edge as he came inside of her, groaning and gasping for air.  
“I love you,” he muttered breathlessly.  
“I love you, too,” Clara replied, resting her head on his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all sooooooo much for the comments :)))


	31. Chapter 31

Clara had completely lost track of time and she couldn't tell whether it was because they completely disregarded the normal sleep pattern, or whether it was because she was thoroughly enjoying herself.  
The Doctor seemed to be entirely back to normal, even more so, he seemed utterly relaxed and at ease. They had spent all day listening to music, reading each other passages from poetry books, making love and talking about the future. Clara loved it. She loved every second of it. Saturday passed and Sunday came and there still weren't any further signs of withdrawal. Finally, Clara thought, they had done it. The worst was behind them.  
After he had cooked them a delicious late lunch, the Doctor brought her a cup of chamomile tea and announced he would be taking a nap, trailing off into the bedroom with his own teacup in his hand. Clara smiled to herself and sank down into one of the beanbags, considering joining him for a moment, but eventually choosing to call her grandmother instead to tell her that they would probably come down to Blackpool in a week to pick up her things – when the doorbell interrupted her.  
“Ralph,” Clara said happily as she opened the door, “I didn't expect to see you today.”  
He gave her a warm smile. “Yeah, I was just walking Arco and thought I'd stop by and see how the two of you are doing. And to pick up the shopping list.”  
“Oh, I'm sorry, I had completely forgotten about it,” Clara replied, “But I don't think it's necessary for you to bring us anything. He's doing better. I think we'll run to the shop ourselves tomorrow.”  
She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Clara was just so happy that everything was working out perfectly and surely Ralph would be glad to hear the news as well. But instead of looking happy or even relieved, Clara watched Ralph raise his eyebrows.  
“He's doing better? Already?” he asked as if he found that hard to believe.  
“Yes,” Clara confirmed, “It's been tough at the beginning, but I think the fact that I was here for him helped a lot. He's fine now. Everything's good.”  
Still Ralph didn't seem convinced.  
“Wow,” he exhaled sharply, “I didn't expect that. I'd have thought it would take much longer. Are you absolutely sure?”  
“Yes,” Clara gave a nervous laugh. Why was Ralph suddenly making her feel so insecure about it? The Doctor was doing well. And she knew that. “I would tell you to go and see for yourself, but he just took his tea and went for a nap.”  
Ralph's forehead wrinkled and the way he looked at her made Clara feel uncomfortable.  
“Clara, how exactly is the Doctor feeling right now?” he asked carefully.  
“What is this?” she asked back, “Ralph, what are you trying to say?”

Without answering Ralph tied Arco to a post next to the door and stepped inside, making his way to the kitchen. Clara following him immediately.  
“What's going on?” she asked him angrily, “What are you doing?”  
“When the Doctor was using,” Ralph said, rummaging through the kitchen and opening the tea boxes on the shelf, “he sometimes drank tea and I was always wondering. . .”  
He paused to have a sniff at the content of one of the tea boxes and his gaze darkened. Ralph sat the box down on the counter, looking at Clara.  
“I'm sorry, Clara,” he said simply.  
She was confused and didn't know what to think. It was all happening too fast for her to comprehend. One moment she was perfectly happy and now. . .  
“What is it?”  
“Well,” he began, “I'm not an expert but I'd say this is what someone might use to make opium tea.”

Clara stepped closer, staring into the little box that sat on the counter. She didn't believe him, she had to see it for herself.  
“I'm so sorry, Clara,” Ralph said in a low, comforting voice, “I was hoping I'd be wrong.”  
“It's not your fault,” Clara replied coldly. She needed him to leave, she needed to be alone for a moment and think about what this meant for her, for the Doctor.  
“Do you want me to stay, or. . .?”  
“No,” Clara shook her head, “I can handle this.”

She didn't know whether Ralph said something before he left. If so, Clara didn't hear it. Her mind was a mess and she couldn't even find a single clear thought. Everything the Doctor had said to her had been a lie. He had lied about feeling better, he had lied about the drugs, so he had probably lied about wanting to quit as well. Was their love a lie as well?  
Clara slowly started moving in the direction of the bedroom, the tea box still in her hand. Again the door was left ajar and Clara stepped inside.  
The Doctor was lying peacefully on his bed, eyes staring at the ceiling as if he hadn't even heard her enter.

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. What could she possibly say to him? Should she ask him? Would he tell her the truth now? Should she yell? Be angry? Tell him to stop? Clara didn't know. She just had no idea.  
“Clara?” the Doctor asked her dreamily, now finally noticing her presence.  
She said nothing, only stared at him, feeling the resentment slowly build up inside of her.  
She heard him chuckle. “Do you want to join me?” he asked, sounding amused, “I must say I've been missing you a little. It's been a while since this morni-”  
“Stop,” Clara said coldly. Her heart was racing so fast. She was scared and she just wanted him to stop talking.  
“What?” the Doctor slowly sat up in bed, “What's the matter, darling?”

Clara looked at him. He was so happy, so peaceful. No, he was high. He had been high all the time. And everything he had said to her had been a lie.  
“You said _no more lies_ ,” Clara stated.  
“Clara, what's wrong?” the Doctor asked her, obviously confused.  
“ _This is what's wrong!_ ” she started yelling and threw the box onto the floor, scattering the contents all over the carpet.  
He stared at her, and then at the obvious evidence of his lies.  
“I can explain.”  
“I don't want you do explain,” Clara said angrily, “I don't want you to lie to me again. You said you wanted to quit because of me. You said you loved me. You said you were feeling better and now this. . . ”  
She pointed to the scattered remains.  
“What am I to make of this, Doctor?” she demanded angrily.  
“Clara,” he said carefully and slowly rose from his bed, “I love you.”  
“Stop it!” Clara found herself yelling again.  
The Doctor approached her, tying to reach out to touch her but Clara stepped back.  
“Clara, please, just. . . just listen to me.”  
“Don't touch me!”  
“Clara. . .”  
“No,” she said determinedly, “I can't, Doctor. I can't even take you seriously right now. I can't listen to you, I can't believe a word that you say to me. I can't do this.”  
The Doctor stared at her, his gaze clouded. How could she not have notice it before? But the expression of pure terror was slowly beginning to shine through.  
“What are you saying?” he asked, swallowing.  
“I need to get out of here. I need to think,” Clara said, “Don't follow me.”

And without saying anything else, Clara ran out of the bedroom, down the stairs and grabbed her coat before running off into the cold winter air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the comments :)


	32. Chapter 32

Clara ran across the fields and tried to fight back the tears. She had done her best to be there for him, to help him through this, but the Doctor had given up. If he couldn't quit the drugs, it was over. Clara wouldn't stay with him, watching him slowly kill himself. All she wanted was him, just a normal relationship where they weren't constantly lying to each other or keeping secrets. But that would never happen, would it? His entire life was a lie – how could Clara expect him to change?

“Clara?”  
She turned around, spotting Ralph and Arco returning from their walk.  
“Is everything alright?” he asked once he had reached her.  
Clara took a deep breath. “No,” she replied, her voice broken and the tears finally rolled down her cheeks, “He can't change, can he? He doesn't even want to.”  
Ralph gave her a weak, sympathetic smile. “Come home with me, Clara. Cynthia will make some tea or hot cocoa and we can all talk. I know you must be angry and confused, but it's not as bad as you might think.”  
“How is this not bad?” she asked angrily.  
“Because I've known the Doctor for a while longer than you have. Come on, let's go into the house.”

 

Clara followed Ralph the last metres to the house, ignoring Arco's curious sniffs and attempts to get her to pet him. Cynthia greeted her in her usual friendly manner and shuffled her into the living room where Clara immediately sat down on the couch. She still felt overwhelmed by what had happened in the last two hours, almost unable to really wrap her head around it. She was only torn from her thoughts when Cynthia handed her a huge mug of hot chocolate and sat down beside her.  
“Ralph told me what happened,” she explained, “Wanna fill me in on the rest?”  
Clara took a moment to gather her thoughts. It had all gone down so fast, she had barely been aware of it.  
“I couldn't stay. I couldn't look at him. Just the sight of him. . .” Clara groaned, “I am really disappointed.”  
“We all knew it wouldn't be easy, but you should talk to him about it. Knowing him, he's gonna show up here any moment.”  
“No, I told him not to follow me. I don't want to see him right now,” Clara said, wiping the tears from her face.  
“Yeah, like that's gonna stop him,” Cynthia gave a light laugh, “Look, he loves you. He's been miserable without you the entire time. Just because quitting an addiction isn't easy and he relapsed doesn't mean that he's not trying.”  
Clara sighed.  
“I'm just not sure I can do it. I thought I could but now I'm not so sure anymore.”  
“Well, what did he say in his defence?” Cynthia wanted to know.  
“Nothing,” Clara replied, “I didn't really give him a chance.”  
The expression on Cynthia's face told Clara that she would have loved to say 'you are idiots', but luckily she kept it to herself.  
Outside of the living room Clara could hear the front door open, followed by low voices talking.  
“And there he is,” Cynthia said with a smirk, “Better leave you two alone.”

 

Right at the moment Cynthia rose from the sofa Clara spotted the Doctor carefully stepping through the doorway. She had been so mad at him when she had left him, but now she no longer knew why. The man in the door frame suddenly looked smaller, defeated and the look on his face was the only apology she really needed.  
“I told you not to follow me,” Clara said with a sigh.  
“I know,” the Doctor replied, reluctantly stepping closer, “I'm sorry, Clara. I know I fucked up, I just. . . I'm sorry.”  
“Don't apologize,” Clara told him strictly.  
He stared at her in confusion, obviously not understanding what was going on, so Clara granted him a weak smile.  
“Make it up to me,” she told him.  
Letting out a small laugh of relief, the Doctor finally stepped up to her and went down on his knees before the sofa. His hand reached for her own.  
“Clara, I love you. I don't want anything to ever come between us again. No lies, no stupid decisions, nothing. I don't ever want to be without you,” he told her sincerely, looking at her.  
Suddenly Clara felt a twinge of panic. He was on his knees, holding her hand, saying what he had just said.  
“Doctor,” she began carefully, “I really hope this isn't what I think it is because the timing couldn't be worse.”  
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, apparently taking a moment to realize what she was talking about.  
“Ohhhh,” he finally muttered, “No. No! Absolutely not! Clara, when I'm going to propose to you, trust me, you will know.”  
“Hang on,” Clara said, “ _When?_ ”

The Doctor rose from his knees to sit on the couch next to her, but never letting go of her hand. His eyes never left her face, but Clara noticed they were clearer now, as if the effects of the opium were already starting to wear off.  
“I thought we had gotten rid of everything. I swear, I only remembered when you mentioned the tea. I never meant to lie to you, but I was in pain and the temptation was there. I. . .” he paused, “I want to try again. Clean the house, make sure everything is gone and have another go at it. I really, really want to get clean.”  
“I believe you,” Clara said sincerely, “We can do it. Together.”  
The Doctor sighed. “Seriously? Are we going to have this discussion again? You're not staying with me this time.”  
“No, you're right, we are not having this discussion again because it's not even up for discussion. Not leaving you alone.”  
Defeated, the Doctor let out another sigh before he bent over to Clara and kissed her. 

“Can you please, please not have sex on our sofa?” they could suddenly hear Cynthia shout from the next room.  
Clara broke the kiss and started to giggle.  
“No worries,” she called back at Cynthia, “This one's not getting any until he's clean and sober.”  
“Wait,” the Doctor stared at her, “Are you serious? Can we talk about that?”  
Clara was still laughing. “Well, you do need _some_ punishment. Now, come on, let's go home. We've got work to do.”  
Clara rose from the sofa, extending her hand for the Doctor to take, helping him up. He grabbed it, but didn't let go when they were both making their way out of the living room.  
“We'll be fine, won't we?” he asked.  
“Yes,” she replied, smiling at him, “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments :)


	33. Chapter 33

This time Clara was prepared, really prepared, even though it didn't really aid to making it any easier. The Doctor was edgy and constantly switching between being too cold or too hot. Clara prepared him meals that he wouldn't eat. Sometimes he yelled at her, sometimes he broke down, crying, because the pain was too much and there was absolutely nothing Clara could do to help him, except try to calm him and make sure he at least ate and drank a little of what she was offering him.  
But the days slowly went by and Clara could see him improving. Not miraculously, like last time, but after five days the worst finally seemed to be over.  
When Clara woke up on the 6th day she was surprised to find the side of the bed next to her empty. Immediately she felt a twinge of panic. What if he had gone out and relapsed again?  
Quickly Clara reached for the bathrobe and threw it over her nightie before heading downstairs. The bathrooms and the kitchen were all empty, but eventually she found the Doctor, sitting peacefully in one of the beanbags, scribbling something into his notebook.  
“I didn't even hear you get up,” Clara said in a low voice. She was relieved that he was okay.  
The Doctor looked up from his notebook. Only now Clara noticed the guitar leaning against the beanbag next to him.  
“I'm sorry if I scared you, but you looked so happy asleep,” he smiled at her, “I woke up early with an idea.”  
“Oh?” Clara raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to have a peek at what he was scribbling down.  
However, the Doctor placed his notebook on the coffee table and wrapped his arms around Clara's waist, pulling her down onto his lap.  
“I've been thinking,” he began, “I want to quit the music, but I don't want to leave the business, knowing that I have lied during my entire career.”  
“I understand,” Clara replied, “So what are you going to do?”  
The Doctor gave a small laugh. “I've been writing a new album and once that is finished and recorded I want to go on one final tour. When you go, you should try to make the loudest noise possible as you leave.”  
Clara chuckled. “I like your thinking. But how are you gonna do all of that without a manager?”  
“Well,” the Doctor said, “You're looking for a job, right?”  
She turned to stare at him. “Are you serious? I can't be your manager!”  
“Why not? You've been a journalist, writing about music for an entertainment magazine. You know the business.”  
“That doesn't qualify me as a manager,” Clara countered.  
“Clara,” he said, pulling her a little closer, “For a musician like me this is hardly any work at all. It's more like 'pick & choose' than actual managing.”  
“Are you sure?” Clara raised an eyebrow at him.  
“I trust you more than anyone else,” the Doctor stated before pulling her down for a kiss, which unfortunately was cut short by the ringing of the doorbell.

“Who could that be?” Clara found herself asking.  
“That,” the Doctor said, “would be Missy.”  
She stared at him in disbelief. “ _Missy?_ ”  
“I need to take care of all the unfinished business. Otherwise it's never gonna work out the way I want it to.”  
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she asked, rising from the beanbag.  
A light smile appeared on the Doctor's face. “No, please, stay.”

The Doctor walked up to the door and opened it, revealing a rather furious looking Missy, who eyed him suspiciously.  
“Okay, you called me, you can stand on your own two feet – I take it you've sobered up and you want to apologize to me?”  
“Why don't you come in, Missy?” the Doctor asked and opened the door a little further.  
Clara watched as Missy stepped inside, stopping as soon as she spotted her. Clara immediately straightened her shoulders in response in an attempt to look taller, but couldn't see this having any impact on Missy at all.  
“Ahhh,” Missy snorted, “You're back with the journalist. I would ask you if you are daft, but I see the question already answers itself.”  
“I did not ask you here to talk about Clara,” the Doctor said resolutely, “And just to make it clear: you're still not my manager anymore.”  
Missy put her arms akimbo. “And you think you're going to find another manager who's gonna put up with you?”  
“I already have,” he replied, glancing at Clara with a smile.  
Technically she hadn't agreed to being his manager at all, but the look on Missy's face suddenly sparked Clara's determination.  
“I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer,” Missy said, her voice angry.  
“You don't have to. It's nothing of your concern anymore,” the Doctor said, “But I asked you here for a reason. I wanted to thank you.”  
Missy raised an eyebrow. “Thank me?”  
“Yes,” he said in a low voice, “I have never told you that I was, and still am, really grateful for all that you've done for me. I should've said it earlier. And more often. You were a great manager, even though we didn't always agree with each other, and although you did not see it that way, you were a great friend, too. You helped me when no one else would and that is something I will never forgot.”  
Missy simply nodded in acknowledgement, looking just a tiny bit pleased with herself.  
“May I ask what you're gonna do now?” she asked.  
The Doctor shrugged. “One last album, one last tour. After that I will settle down – with Clara.”  
Missy inhaled sharply. “Well, if that's your decision I will have no choice but to accept it, seeing that I am not your manager anymore. Just know, if you ever change your mind about that, my door is always open.”  
He let out a small laugh. “Missy, I think you have made enough money off me.”  
She gave a light shrug. “I suppose it's goodbye then?”  
“I'll send you a concert ticket,” the Doctor said jokingly.  
Missy scoffed. “Don't bother. Now that I am not your manager anymore I can honestly say that I've always hated the noise you make. But if that's what sells, what can you do?”  
The Doctor smiled. “Goodbye Missy.”

Once she was gone both the Doctor and Clara let out a sigh of relief. Clara reached for his hand, looking up at him.  
“There goes the dragon,” the Doctor said with a chuckle.  
“It went well though.”  
“Yes, I was braced for more drama,” the Doctor turned to look at her, “So, what do you say? Will you be my manager?”  
“Well, I kind of have to show it to Missy that I can do it, don't I? But first we're going to Blackpool. You will meet my family – and my cat.”  
“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

The Doctor pressed her against the wall with the weight of his body, which was even heavier now with the addition of a guitar slung around his back. He was kissing her passionately without any apparent intention to stop.  
“You have to go on stage,” Clara reminded him in a muffled voice.  
“I know,” he grunted, “But I would rather keep on kissing you.”  
“I can already hear them shouting your name,” she said before he could press his lips onto hers again.  
“You're the only person I want to hear shouting my name,” the Doctor replied as his mouth wandered over the skin of her neck.  
“Doctor,” Clara said in a strict voice, carefully pushing him away from her, “There's still time for that later.”  
She reached into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out his Wayfarer sunglasses and shoving them down onto his nose. Clara smiled broadly at him. He was looking so good tonight, dressed in the plaid trousers she had come to love and his hoodie zipped over one of his t-shirts. This was the real him. This was the Doctor she loved.  
During the interviews promoting his new and last album he had spilled it all to the press – except his real name, of course. No more show, no more lies. Just the Doctor, the way he really was.  
“Now go on stage and rock the living hell out of your last concert,” Clara told him proudly, still grinning.  
The Doctor smiled back at her. “I love you.”  
“I love you, too.”

He placed one last kiss on her mouth before he darted off in the direction of the stage. Clara positioned herself at the side, finding a spot from which she could see him. The large crowd was cheering and Clara found herself remembering the day she had met him, still mesmerized that chance and a very unlikely chain of events had brought them to this point.  
But as soon as he started playing Clara forgot the world around her again. He was in the best shape of his entire life and Clara felt a tiny bit sad that this would be his last concert ever. He was too good to quit now, but she understood why he wanted to. So they could live together, a life of peace and quiet.  
The audience went mad at his new songs, songs only Clara knew he had written for her. She hadn't even known about most of them until she had gone to the recording studio with him, but it had been a wonderful surprise and Clara could only imagine how many women in the audience must be wishing that those songs had been written for them. 

When the concert was over Clara watched the Doctor bow in front of the audience.  
“Thank you, thank you!” he shouted, “It's been wonderful here tonight and I couldn't have picked a better place – or audience – for my last concert. But before I go there is something I would like to say.”  
Clara's face turned into a frown. That wasn't part of the programme. What on earth was he up to now? Whatever it was, he should have cleared it with her.  
“A little over a year ago I gave a concert. Right here. In this very hall,” the Doctor paused, “And I looked into crowd and I saw _that_ face. That face I knew I wanted to wake up to for the rest of my life. The face of the most beautiful woman on this planet.”  
Clara's heart skipped a beat and she suddenly remembered a conversation they had had over 6 months ago. But he wouldn't. Not here. Not now. Or would he?  
“Clara, darling, why don't you join me on stage?” the Doctor asked, now turning around and looking directly at her.  
She really didn't have a choice now, so she stepped forward until he placed his arm around her waist.  
“Everyone, this is Clara!” the Doctor turned his head towards her, smiling, and that mischievous twinkling in his eyes told Clara he was doing exactly what she thought he was doing, “And I have to ask her a very important question.”  
Clara glared at him, or at least she tried to, but it came out more like a weird grimace that was somewhere between angry and amused and deeply flattered.  
“Now?” she mouthed, “You wanna do this now? In public?”  
“When better?” he winked at her before he dropped on one knee in front of her. 

The Doctor took a deep breath. “Clara Oswald, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”  
Clara quickly glanced at the audience that had suddenly become very, very quiet except for a few lonely whistles, then back to the Doctor and she decided that if he dared to make it public, she could at least leave him hanging for a little while.  
“Where's the ring?” she asked him.  
“At home, waiting for you. See, there's an awful lot of jumping involved in a concert and I didn't want to lose it,” the Doctor replied, looking a tiny bit anxious.  
Clara pouted for a moment, as if contemplating her answer before she couldn't contain her smile any longer.  
“Yes,” she finally said, grinning broadly, “Yes, I will become your wife.”  
A smile spread on the Doctor's face as he rose to his feet again, wrapping his arms around Clara's waist and spinning her around on the stage. When he set her down again and pressed his lips on her own, Clara could hear the audience cheer and whistle behind her, but they didn't matter anymore. The Doctor was all hers now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very, very, VERY much for reading this story. Thank you for commenting and reviewing and sending me messages. This is by far the longest and most popular story I have written so far and I didn't even want to write it in the first place. It was actually supposed to be a oneshot that I wrote over six months ago and never posted because I thought it was stupid. But thank you all so much for sticking with this story and I truly hope you will love this last chapter.
> 
> I have already started on my next fic called 'Ashes of Eden' and posted some chapters if you feel bored and want to check it out ;)


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